The Breaking Point
by Miss Melpomene
Summary: She would never be able to get away. She knew that now. She could run as far and fast as she liked, but she wouldn't ever be able to reclaim what she knew she'd lost. Her life ended the minute she set foot in Santa Carla.
1. What Doesn't Kill You

**DISCLAIMER: The places and characters featured hereinafter are the property of Warner Bros., Joel Shumacher, Janice Fischer, James Jeremias, and Jeffrey Boam and no attempt is being made by the author to claim ownership or profit from the use of the aforementioned characters. The Peter Pan works by J.M. Barrie copyright belongs to the Great Ormond Street Hospital and no copyright infringement is intended through its mention and usage in this story. The Picture of Dorian Gray belongs to the Oscar Wilde estate. The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the views of the original authors and any character names or places mentioned in the original works belong to the copyright holders and are used in this story for nonprofit entertainment purposes by an amateur writer. The Greyhound bus lines is briefly mentioned in the second chapter and is an independent subsidiary of the FirstGroup corporation. The original characters used in this story are the creative property of They Might Be Vampires and are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I understand that this disclaimer is very excessive, but I do not want to have to repeat myself after or before every chapter. Please do not attempt to sue me, you would be sorely disappointed, I assure you.  
**

_"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."  
_

Chapter One

Some runaways plan their escape for months, carefully deciding what they would take with them from their old life when they left, purchasing train tickets or bus tickets in advance. But most of the time, the decision to leave at last was made in the heat of the moment when things became too painful to take anymore. There was no thinking, no time to.

Melissa Van Buren had thought about running away before. Plenty enough times that she had every bus schedule and train schedule in town memorized. She never thought she would go through with it, no matter how bad life seemed to get. It was nice to dream, though, of getting out, getting so far away that she'd forget about her other life altogether. The reasons for never leaving changed daily, in so vast a number she thought she might never run out of excuses. But in the end, what it boiled down to was that she didn't have the courage. Her life could be worse, she told herself. She could be dead. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly. There were people all over the world who didn't even have that much, and how much better would she fair if she went out on the streets. She could get mugged or raped, or worse, and nobody would even care to look for her. She'd just be another runaway.

"Missy!" The shrill call came from the room below her and Melissa cringed. Missy had been the pet name that her mother, her real mother, and her father had called her by when she was growing up. Melissa was her name, but Missy had been so much easier for her to pronounce when she was little that her parents picked up on it and took to calling her that themselves.

Melissa remembered when she was growing up, and her mother would say or do funny things. Sometimes the stuff she did or said scared the girl. She remembered the first time her father sat her down and explained what was happening to her mother. She had been eight at the time. Her parents had decided that since she was eight now, she could take a bath without their help. Her father still had to turn the water on for her, though, she still couldn't manage that. He had left her to pick out her pajamas for her, promising to be back in time to turn the water off before the tub overflowed like last time. Melissa was standing by the tub in the bathroom, watching the water rise when her mother came in.

"Get out, Mommy!" She cried, giggling. "Daddy says I'm old enough to give myself a bath now." Her mother looked at her like she could never remember seeing her in the house before. A few seconds of that look and Melissa became uncomfortable and tried speaking to her mother again. "Mommy?"

"What are you doing here?" She asked, and Melissa turned and pointed at the tub. "It's bath time, Mommy. Daddy's getting my jammies." Melissa chirped. "Daddy promised he'd read me a story after bath time, you wanna read a story with us, Mommy?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Her mother frowned at her.

"Calling you what, Mommy?" Melissa was confused and scared. She didn't like the way her mother was looking at her.

"That. Mommy. Mommy. MOMMY!" Her mother shrieked and tugged on her hair. Melissa started to cry. "Stop crying. You're not real. You don't belong here. You shouldn't be here. I was a good mother, I loved my Missy. Why do you come here? To torture me? To tease me with what I lost? I WAS A GOOD MOTHER! It's not my fault that she drowned in the lake, her father was supposed to be watching her! You're a thing of evil." Her mother hissed, and Melissa cried harder. "I only looked away for a minute…she wasn't supposed to be alone on the lake."

Three years before, when Melissa had been five, her family had gone on a vacation to their grandparent's lake house. Melissa took to the water like a duckling, wanting to be out on the lake any moment that she wasn't sleeping. One day, about a week into their vacation, a storm hit them. The sky was angry and grey, dropping fat, heavy raindrops on the cabin and lake. Nothing that Melissa's mother and father could say to her would convince her that the weather was too bad to go outside. She waited until her mother and father were otherwise preoccupied and snuck out of the house. She wanted to watch the fairies play in the rain. Her mother told her that inside every raindrop there was a little fairy.

"Fairies love to play in the rain," Mommy said. "They fly up, way, way up to the clouds where the rain comes from, and when they get there, they climb inside the raindrops and ride them all the way back down to the ground." Melissa had tried catching raindrops in a glass before, to see if she could see the fairies; but her mother told her that she would never catch one, because fairies were clever. They always danced away before the drops reached the ground, flying back up to the clouds so they could play some more.

She walked out to the pier where Daddy and Grandpa sat with their fishing poles when the weather was nice. They weren't there today, because the bad weather made Grandpa's bones hurt. Melissa walked out to the edge and peeked out over the water. The raindrops crashed into the water and the lake water jumped up to meet it. Something silver flashed in the water and Melissa gasped. Her grandfather had told her all about the different fish that lived in the lake, even pointed out the skinny, silver ones that he called minnows. She wasn't thinking about that when she bent over and tried to reach into the water. It was raining, and she was thinking that if she could catch the fairy that had fallen into the water, she could show it to Mommy and because Mommy had never seen a fairy before, she would be proud of her. The wood of the pier was slippery beneath her feet and when she leaned over the last time, her feet slipped out from under her and she plunged headfirst into the water.

Being underwater is a terrifying experience, anyone who has almost drowned would tell you the same.

Melissa could see the rain hitting the surface of the lake above her but she couldn't hear it anymore. Her thrashing carried her farther out into the lake, and the last thing she remembered seeing before she slipped under the last time, too tired to keep her head up, was her father running out of the house. When she woke up again, her throat was hurting from coughing, and she was tired.

They brought her in the house and Grandma took her wet clothes off and wrapped her in a blanket, rocking her and singing to her as she cried. That was the first time she saw her mother and father fight. It lasted all night.

She had almost died that day. But she hadn't. She couldn't figure out why her mother thought she had. "I'm not evil, Mommy. I didn't drowned in the lake, Mommy. I'm okay, Mommy. Look!" In the bathroom, she moved toward the crazed woman and her mother screamed.

"You are evil! Taking the image of my baby like that to torment me! I was a good mother! I WAS A GOOD MOTHER!"

When Melissa's father came back he found that the floor in the hall outside the bathroom was wet, and the door was shut. "Missy, did the tub overflow again?" He laughed, turning the knob and pushing the door open. He saw his wife up to her arms in the bathwater, and beyond her, beneath the water, was his limp, eight year old daughter.

"MARIE! What have you done?" He grabbed his wife by the shoulder and threw her against the bathroom wall. He ripped Melissa's still form from the tub and pinched her nose, breathing into her mouth. "Breathe, baby, c'mon Missy.

Melissa remembered her mother screaming when she opened her eyes again, telling Daddy to get away from her and Daddy was yelling and telling her that she needed help. Daddy called Grandpa to watch her and Grandpa let her watch television until Daddy got back from the doctor. He sat with her on her bed, and he cried and hugged her a lot but what she remembered most vividly was what he told her when she asked where Mommy was.

"Missy, sweetheart. Mommy is sick. She's been sick for a long time and Daddy didn't want to believe that she was sick so he didn't help her get the help that she needed."

"Mommy doesn't look sick." Melissa said, confused. Her father leaned in to put his arms around her and pulled her up onto his lap.

"It's a different kind of sick," he said. "an inside kind you can't see."

Melissa didn't understand, but she wanted her daddy to think that she did so she nodded her head. "Where is Mommy?"

"She's at the hospital. The doctors are going to take care of her."

"When will Mommy be back?" Her father was quiet for a long time, and Melissa thought she saw his eyes shining.

"I don't know, baby." He said at last.

"Is she gonna get better?"

The shine in her father's eyes got brighter until the glistening liquid held there spilled over and down his face. Melissa had never seen her father cry before, she didn't think adults cried at all. "Mommy's head isn't like my head or your head." He told her. "It's broken, and sometimes she doesn't remember things. The doctors think that medicine will help her, but you can't make this kind of sick go away completely."

Something was still bothering Melissa, and as much as she wanted to ask, one thing kept coming back. "Why was Mommy mad at me?"

Her father made a sound like he was choking. "She wasn't mad at you, baby, she's just sick. Her head told her something that wasn't true and because she's sick, she believed it. Your mommy loves you very much, Missy. She might say things that sound strange or scary, but just remember that your mommy loves you more than anything in the whole world."

Two years later, her mother killed herself. The two years during which her mother's mental illness drove her to the brink were hell for Melissa's entire family. The adults around her cried all the time, and Melissa's mother never remembered who her daughter was. She screamed and cried every time Daddy brought her to visit, and though Daddy would show her mother pictures of her and explain that she hadn't died at all, Mommy got angry at him. She cried for the daughter she thought she lost, but Melissa never forgot what her father said to her the night her mother tried to kill her. Even when her mother would call her horrible things, she never forgot that her Mommy had loved her at one point. Back when there were smiles and hugs when her mother saw her, instead of tears and screams.

Back when her world was alright and there were always fairies in the rain.

"MISSY!" The call came again, and Melissa knew that if she didn't answer it soon, her stepmother would come upstairs and she wanted to avoid that at all costs. Even if it meant going downstairs and facing the woman in person. Her stepmother Renee was much younger than her father had been when he'd married her, and Melissa had always been bothered by that. Her father married the woman when she was twelve, and because her father was all that she had and his happiness meant more to her than her own, she was willing to cooperate with her new stepmother. She promised herself that she would try to get along with Renee, if only for her father's sake; and for the three years that Melissa, her father, and Renee lived together, things were alright. She and Renee got along well enough, and her dad was happy.

That was until he went out to the store to pick up a carton of milk and was shot by a young man who, at the time her father came in, was attempting to rob the store, and panicked. For the next two years, Melissa lived with her stepmother, who, after her father's death, transformed in a malicious, vindictive woman who was bent on taking her grief out on Melissa. Melissa tried to respect that Renee must have loved her father, and even if she had never cared for the woman herself, her father had most certainly loved her back. She hadn't been the only one who lost something the night her father died, and different people reacted to grief differently. Some people got reckless and wild, some lost the will to live, and some people, like Renee, just needed someone to blame.

She left her room with little urgency in her pace, preparing herself mentally as she descended the stairs. Renee was waiting for her in the kitchen. "Yes, Renee?"

"Do you have any idea who I've just been on the phone speaking to?" Her stepmother held clutched in her left hand the cordless phone that usually hung on the wall by the fridge.

"I don't know, Renee." Melissa said, because honestly she didn't.

"Your principal." Renee said, and Melissa's stomach dropped into her feet. "He said you weren't in school today. I had to LIE, to your principal, just to keep your worthless ass out of trouble. I told him you weren't feeling well today and so help me, Missy, if you don't convince me within the next thirty seconds that you had a VERY good reason for skipping school, I'm going to give you a reason to not feel well." Melissa said nothing, but kept her eyes trained on her sneakers. "Where were you, Missy?"

"Please, don't call me that, Renee." Renee knew well that it bothered Melissa when she called her by that name, she did it because it was the one thing she could do that truly upset Melissa, apart from bringing up her father.

"I'm your mother, I'll call you whatever I like! Now, where were you?" Melissa thought about reminding Renee that she wasn't her mother, but that would lead to a whole other argument that she didn't want to get into at the moment.

"I was in the park." She couldn't stand being inside a cold, cement building all day, not when she could take a book and lie on the grass in the park all day instead. Letting a dead author spin fantastic tales of hedonism and a young man who traded his soul for immortal youth was far more fascinating than listening to her teachers talk about algebra or ancient wars.

"Who do you think you are? Do you think that everyone else has to go to school but you're somehow above that? Well, do you?"

"No."

"I'm sick of this, Missy. Sick of you hiding up in your room all day, sick of getting calls from school that you're not showing up to class, or not paying attention when you do condescend to show up for school. But mostly, I'm sick of you. You. Everything about you annoys me. The way you talk, the way you look, the way you're always off with your head in the clouds."

"If you hate me so much, why don't you kick me out?" Her cheek was stinging before she even knew that Renee had moved.

"Don't you dare talk to me that way. You're mine. Until you turn eighteen and walk out that door, I OWN you. You think I wanted you? No, but I married your father anyway. I loved that man, and you killed him." Melissa winced, and Renee smiled. "He wouldn't have gone to that store if you hadn't whined about the damn milk. He never could deny you anything, and look where it got him. He's dead, and I'm stuck with you. You'd be happier living on the street, wouldn't you?" Melissa stared at her shoes, biting her lip. Renee smacked her again. "Answer me!"

"Yes."

"Aha." Renee smiled. "That's why you're stuck with me. You worthless girl. What better punishment for taking away the man I love than keeping you here, with me, where I can remind you every day of what you've done."

"I didn't kill him." Melissa whispered, and Renee probably wouldn't have heard her if not for how quiet the house was.

"What did you say?"

Melissa looked up, and her eyes were hard. "I didn't kill my father."

"Just like you didn't kill your mother?" Melissa froze, her mouth falling open in shock. "You drove that woman insane and she tried to kill you. When she failed, she killed herself. You're an evil girl and everything you touch dies!"

"SHUT UP!" Melissa screamed. "You don't know anything about my mother! My mother loved me! My father loved me! My mother was sick. She may have been crazy, but she never would have tried to hurt me if she hadn't been. Not like you. You're twisted and evil and you tell me things that aren't true just to hurt me! I'm sorry that Dad died, but it's not my fault that he died! I'm sick to death of you telling me it was my fault! It wasn't my fault!"

"How dare you!" Renee brought the phone she was still holding down hard across Melissa's face. Stunned, the girl stumbled back into the kitchen table. Her hands fumbled across the surface of the table until they touched something smooth and cold. She wrapped her hands around the vase of flowers and brought it crashing down on her stepmother's wicked head. Renee crumpled to the ground, unconscious, but alive. Melissa ran out of the kitchen, knowing that she had precious little time until her stepmother came to and called the police.

Melissa had always thought about running away. She never thought she would actually go through with it but as she blew into her room, she knew the moment had come.

The breaking point.

She ripped her backpack off her bed, gripped the cool leather in her hands and shook her school supplies out onto the floor. She ripped open every drawer and grabbed the first things her hands touched, stuffing them into her bag. She did the same to the cabinet in the bathroom. One book she took from the shelf of many, her favorite, and added that to the bag as well. A map, followed, along with all the money she'd saved, totaling six hundred and eighteen dollars. She took the bag and took the stairs two at a time, barreling into the kitchen where her still unconscious stepmother kept her purse. She pocketed every bit of cash Renee had, two hundred dollars, and grabbed her jacket out of the hall closet, freezing as the smell of the worn brown leather wafted to her nose and took her back to when she'd first saved up enough money to buy the jacket.

She'd been so happy.

Outside the house, she stopped to look back at the home she'd shared with her father before Renee had come along. She reached up and touched the locket hanging around her throat, fingered the place where "Missy" had been engraved on the back, and opened it. Her parents' faces stared back at her, smiling and young. Their wedding day. "I'm sorry." was all she said before she closed the locket, threw her backpack on and felt the rain hitting her face and hair.

"...fairies." She whispered, and she ran.

**Thank you for reading. **


	2. Once Upon a Time

**Please note that a character introduced in this chapter (believe me, you WILL know who I'm speaking of when they come in) uses extremely coarse, and sometimes offensive language. Please be advised if this is something that upsets you, to read no further. I will not censor out these words for the sake of few who might find them to be unpleasant, because it is in the nature of the character to say these words and as I have offered you the chance to turn away now, you forfeit any right to complain should you choose to proceed. This story is rated for mature readers for a reason, folks.**

"_When we recall the past, we usually find that it is the simplest things - not the great occasions - that in retrospect give off the greatest glow of happiness."_

Chapter Two

"You need some help, sweetie?" Melissa looked up from the map she was reading and found an older man in comfortable traveling clothes staring at her. The bus station was close to empty at seven fifteen at night, most people preferred to leave for a trip in the morning, she supposed. This man already had a ticket in his hand, a suitcase in the other. She had been trying to make herself as invisible as possible, hiding her face behind the map and her hair. This man had seen her despite her attempts to shrink through her chair into the floor, she only hoped that he wouldn't find her out.

"No." She told him, trying to put her desire to end the conversation as quickly as possible into her voice. He just smiled.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, and she hesitated. She didn't care where she was going, just as long as there was enough distance between her and Renee. She read once that if you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.

"Far, far away." She answered after a long moments pause, looking down at her map again.

"Running away, huh?" Melissa tried not to let her surprise show, but the man laughed anyway. "I recognize the look. When I was about your age I was living with my granddad. My parents were in a car accident when I was real small, so I don't even remember them." Melissa was quiet. Her parents may have been gone, but at least she had had the chance to know them. "My granddad raised me, but he started to go a little crazy the older he got. Senile, you know?" Melissa nodded. She knew all about crazy. "Anyway, he started knocking me around and I thought that running away would make things better so I bought a bus ticket and headed west to a town called Santa Carla. I used to go there during the summers when I was little. Granddad used to show me pictures, they have a boardwalk there, right on the beach." Melissa wondered what it would be like to live someplace with a beach and a boardwalk. "You know the place?"

She shook her head. "No."

The man smiled and spoke again. "It's where all the kids who run away end up." Melissa tilted her face at the man with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Like Neverland." She said.

"Yeah," the man laughed. "except when I got there I didn't find no Peter Pan." She looked down at the map in her hands and tried to find Santa Carla with her finger. The man peered over her shoulder and jabbed at a spot on the map with his finger. "Right here." Melissa's spirits rose. It was seventy-two miles south of San Francisco, over eight hundred miles from Seattle and Renee.

"I know what it feels like to feel like you can't run far enough." The man said quietly, smiling at her. "But be careful out there, sometimes there are worse things out there they what you're running from."

She frowned, considering what the man said before she answered him. "Thank you." She whispered. She could do it. She had to do it. Her father was gone and she wasn't go to spend another minute alone in that house with that woman. Whatever was in Santa Carla had to be better than staying with Renee.

The girl working the ticket counter was probably only a year older than her, maybe even someone she went to school with, and Melissa tried not to make eye contact with her as she rapped on the glass separating them to get the girl's attention. "Do you have buses that run to Santa Carla?"

"One way or roundtrip?" The girl sighed at her, popping her bubblegum with her teeth without looking up from her computer even once.

"One way." When Renee contacted the police, and she would, the police would check the bus and train stations. It might take them awhile, but they would figure out where she went and she would just have to hope what the man said about Santa Carla was true. If there were as many runaways there as he said, nobody would even look twice at her.

"Departure time is 7:30pm." Melissa glanced at her watch, it was 7:20 now.

"Approximate arrival time is 12:45am tomorrow. Trip duration will be one day, five hours, and fifteen minutes. You'll transfer buses once in Eugene, Oregon and again in Redding, California. Ticket cost will be ninety-seven dollars."

She couldn't help smiling as she slid a hundred dollar bill under the slot in the glass. Even with the cost of the ticker, and allowing fifty dollars for food expenses during the trip, she still had over six hundred dollars to start her new life in a new city.

The girl behind the glass typed something into the computer and something printed out of the machine beside it. She slid her ticket and her change back to her along with a printout explaining the stopovers the buses would make during a trips for mealtimes and to pick up new passengers. Melissa smiled at the ticket girl and thanked her. The girl waved her off, lifting her eyes for the first time. "Have a nice-" she stopped, giving Melissa a curious look. "Hey, don't I go to school with you?"

"Sorry, I'm not from around here." Was all Melissa said, turning and going out to the terminal to wait for her bus, number 1509 to arrive.

She knew after the eighteenth time that she looked at her watch that she was going to go crazy if she looked at it again so she took it off and slipped it in her jacket pocket.

The rain was still coming down hard, and the streets were empty except for the couple of people waiting under their umbrellas for their buses to arrive. She should have brought one, she realized, but it wasn't like she do anything about it now. The rain poured down the back of her jacket, soaking her to the bone. Her hair was sticking to her face and neck, hanging in front of her eyes like a wet, yellow curtain.

She was about to go back inside and watch for her bus through the windows when the rain stopped hitting her. She looked up and found that someone had come up close beside her, holding a red plastic umbrella over both their heads.

"Ya look like a drowned rat, honey." The woman holding the umbrella was a couple of years older than her, or at least her makeup made it appear that way. Her skin was dark in a way that you couldn't get with time under the sun, and her hair was dry, teased high and framing her head like a black cloud. Her lips, painted bright red, peeled back to reveal a perfect smile and teeth yellowed slightly by the same cigarette she held between the index and middle fingers of her left hand. But it wasn't the woman's teeth she was concerned about, but the dark, heavy bruise that marred the makeup on the woman's right eye. Melissa tried not to stare at it as she reflexively raised a hand to rub the tender spot on her jaw where a telephone shaped bruise would be the next morning. "Nice shiner, huh?" The woman was grinning from ear to ear and Melissa's ears turned red.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I didn't mean to stare."

The woman waved her off with the same hand holding her cigarette. "Don't worry 'bout it, hon. I got this beauty from my ex, Steve. He thought I was fuckin' 'roun' on him. I wasn't, but try tellin' him that. I usually work nights so I get home 'roun' four usually, an' when I got home this mornin' Steve was waitin' on me. Said he would 'beat the whore outta me'." She held her cigarette between her lips and made quotations with her left hand. "So I waited for him to fall asleep an' I got the hell outta Dodge." The woman took one last hit from her cigarette and threw it out into the rain. "A man hits me, he only does it once." Melissa watched the rain kill the fire on the cigarette's tip, thinking about what the woman's story. She barely heard it when the woman spoke again. "I'm Eden, what's the name, girly?" Melissa hesitated for a long time and Eden bumped her with her shoulder. "Fuck, I ain't gonna call the cops or nothin', an' we don't even hafta talk 'bout what you're runnin' from if ya don't wanna."

"Mel-" She started to say her full name, but stopped. After her father died, she had stopped using the name she'd answered to since she was small, calling herself by her full name instead. She had wanted to put distance between herself and the pain that hearing that name brought. Renee had never let her forget, and to hear the name her mother and father had spoken with such love spoken with such venom by a woman she hated had always made her sick. She was Missy when she was with her family, Melissa when she was with Renee. But she wasn't with Renee anymore, she was on her way to a new life, and she wanted to be Missy again. "Missy." She said at last, the first time she'd spoken the name aloud since her father died.

"Missy, huh?" Eden smiled. "Nice to meet ya." The bus pulled up in front of them, a long silver machine with a leaping dog on the side. Eden folded her red umbrella and the rain flattened her hair the moment it was out of the way. She bent and retrieved the bag sitting at her feet, nudging Melissa, no, Missy, with her hip. "Ya comin' or what?"

Missy smiled though she was cold and wet, because even if she was those things, at least she wasn't alone. "Second to the right." She whispered. "And straight on till morning."

Missy had never been on a bus before, and when she leaned over to ask Eden if all buses were as nice as theirs, the older girl laughed at her.

"Ya kiddin' me? Me an' my ma took a bus 'cross town once when I was just a little thing. I remember the smell mostly. Fuckin' worse than anythin' I'd ever smelled before or since. Like someone'd been sick on a hot day an' they forgot to clean the shit up. There was this couple arguin' a couple seats away from us, an' the lady sittin' next to me kept fuckin' coughin' on me." Eden shuddered and it was Missy's turn to laugh at her. She couldn't believe she was on a bus, surrounded by strangers, and headed for a town she'd never heard of before today. It was strange, but she felt like she was on the right path. Santa Carla, the name meant freedom to her.

A half hour into their trip, the batteries in Eden's cassette player died and she decided that if she couldn't listen to music, she would settle for asking Missy about herself.

"What do you want to know?" Missy approached the conversation with caution, hoping that Eden's curiosity would not steer the topic toward her parents.

"Where were ya born?" Eden asked her, lifting her legs up onto the seat and tucking them under her body. Missy smiled.

"Seattle."

"Okay, that was easy." Eden chewed on her lip for a few seconds before she spoke again.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Um, yellow I guess."

"Why?" Missy thought about it for a minute before she answered.

"My first bedroom was painted yellow." Eden nodded her head.

"Okay. Movie?"

"Carousel." Missy replied so suddenly that Eden lifted an eyebrow.

"Never seen it."

"It's great. It's about-" Eden cut her off by asking her another question.

"Book?"

"The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde."

"What's your middle name?"

"Grace."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." They covered every topic that either of the could come up with and by the time they reached the first transfer spot in Eugene, Oregon, neither of them wanted to do any more talking. She knew a lot about Eden after a couple of hours of talking with her. She used to live in Texas before she moved to Seattle. She was on her way to Los Angeles now that she'd left her boyfriend. She wanted to be an actress but she was afraid she'd end up a whore instead like her ex had told her she was. She said a lot of the girls who went to Los Angeles to be actresses ended up as hookers instead. Missy hadn't known that. There were a lot of things she didn't know, apparently.

Missy and Eden rolled off the bus and Eden dragged her younger friend by her arm into the diner across the street. "You hungry, kid? I'm fucking starving, could eat the ass end out of a rhino if somebody'd hold his legs." Missy had heard a lot of such language in the hours she'd spent with Eden, and though it no longer surprised her to hear her new friend talk like that, it still amazed her. Eden flopped into a red vinyl booth and Missy slid into the one across from her. "What're ya gonna get?"

"I'm not hungry." Eden nodded her head, barely listening to her as she scanned the menu. When at last she put it down, she stretched up out of her seat, waved her arm and whistled at a girl wearing an apron.

"Hey, doll! Can I get some fuckin' service over here?"

Eden was loud and abrasive, and Missy had never met anyone like her before. That was probably why she liked her. Her father had been quiet and passionate, and her mother had been soft and gentle, that was, when her mental illness wasn't making her throw plates at Missy's father. Missy herself had inherited her father's wordless passion, and her mother's soft, kind nature. She only hoped that that was the only thing she picked up from her mother.

The waitress walked off with their menus and Eden folded her hands on the table and gave Missy a serious look. "What?" Missy asked, eyes wide.

"Are ya gonna tell me or what?" Missy pretended not to know what she was talking about, rubbing at a stain on the table's surface with her thumb.

"Tell you what?"

"Your story. What you're runnin' from. I know ya didn't get that welt on your jaw by walkin' inta a fuckin' door, and don't even think 'bout tryin' to sell me some shit 'bout you fallin' down the stairs." As it had turned out, the bruise from her stepmother's well placed strike had showed up earlier than she'd anticipated, and for a while, Eden had been as careful not to look at it as not to mention it.

"It's a long story, Eden."

"It's a long bus ride, Miss." The waitress came back and set a plate with a burger and fries on it in front of Eden, and a coke in front of both of them. "Ya can't keep that shit bottled up, girl. It'll eat you up."

"I'll tell you." Missy whispered, eyes darting to look at the other occupants of the diner. "Just not here, okay?" The rest of the passengers on the bus would fall asleep soon enough, riding a bus at night had a tendency to make people sleepy, and with them conked out she wouldn't have to worry about them listening in on her and Eden.

"I here ya." Eden tucked into her burger and Missy discovered that she had more of an appetite than she'd thought and when Eden didn't seem to care after she stole a fry or two, vigorously attacked the rest of the pile. "You know, kid, I got a feeling things are gonna start lookin' up for the both of us. Can't rain all the fuckin' time, you know?"

When next bus came that would take them the next leg of their trip, Eden was still complaining about their waitress' 'shitty attitude' and Missy was nodding along. They rode for the next two hours in silence and Missy thought she'd forgotten about what they discussed in the diner until she started fidgeting again, turning in her seat to face her. Missy was sitting with her head against the cold window, watching the scenery roll by behind the glass but she could feel Eden watching her.

"Hey, Miss?"

"Yeah, Eden." She said, not looking away from the window.

"Ya gonna tell me now?"

"You really want to know?" Eden nodded, and she slid forward in her seat, an eager smile on her face. "I don't know how to start."

"How about 'once upon a time'?" Eden joked, but considering the nature of her story, Missy felt it was appropriate to begin that way.

"Okay. Once upon a time, in a magical place called Seattle," Eden snorted.

"Magic my ass." Missy ignored her, continuing with the story that was painful to remember, let alone share with another person. She talked for a long time about when things had been gone, reluctant to go farther into what she called The Bad Years. She told her about the time she'd fallen in the lake, and how her mother's illness had led her to believe she'd died that day. She repeated what her father had told her the night of her mother's unsuccessful murder attempt, and how her mother killed herself not long after. It was hard to talk about the years before her dad died, and even harder to talk about the miserable two years she spent afterward listening to Renee tell her it was her fault.

"Bitch." Eden had said when she got to the most recent part of her story, wherein she reached the point of no return. She laughed when she told her about the vase. "Knocked the cunt out, huh?

She finished her story, and she didn't feel any better for it. Eden said that bottling your feelings up gave them the time to grow angry enough inside you to devour you from the inside out. Of course, the way Eden said it was riddled with poor grammar and swear words, but the meaning was there regardless. She didn't feel any different after telling her tale, just sad, and Eden rubbed her back the entire time she cried into her knees.

Afterwards Eden leaned on her shoulder and fell asleep, snoring a little. Missy took a little longer, grateful to have someone with her who wasn't much better off than her, but mostly she was thankful to have someone to talk to after so long of hiding in her room so she wouldn't have to be around Renee. After a while, she leaned back against Eden, closed her eyes, and dreamed of the beach.

Redding, California was nothing special, at least the part they stopped in to transfer buses for the second time. Compared to the rest of the state, it was pretty commonplace, nowhere near as impressive as Missy had imagined California would be. It was mid-afternoon when she and Eden stepped into a small souvenir shop by the bus terminal, browsing the assorted knick-knacks and tee shirts. Eden was down a different aisle, looking at shark's teeth, when the television in the corner happened to catch Missy's attention. The image on the screen troubled her more than whatever the reporter was saying, because the picture was one of a skinny yellow haired girl with legs that were too long and a miserable expression on her face. It was her, last school year, on picture day. She allowed what the reporter was saying to reach her and her stomach dropped.

"_-after she viciously attacked her stepmother, Renee Van Buren, with a vase, Melissa then stole two hundred dollars from her stepmother's purse and left the house. A witness told the local police that he had seen Melissa in the local Greyhound bus terminal. It is not yet known where the bus Melissa boarded was headed, but if you see this girl, please call the number on the screen. Be advised that she may or may not be armed, and should be considered extremely dangerous." _Renee's face appeared on the screen, she was crying, holding a handkerchief to her eyes.

"_Please, please help me find my little girl. She suffers from the same mental illness that claimed her biological mother's life and she might try to hurt herself, or someone else, if she isn't brought home, where I know how to care for her illness." _Missy was horrified, angry tears welling in her eyes. Renee was sitting there, spewing lies to the media that she was crazy and dangerous. _"Please, Missy." _Renee's eyes stared at her on the screen. _"Please, Missy. Come home. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, and I forgive you. Please come home, your mother misses you." _Missy turned away from the television, ignoring the cashier's concerned expression as she found Eden and dragged her from the store by her arm.

"Renee put my face on the news. She said I'm crazy like my mom was and that I'm going to hurt somebody." She was crying and Eden all but growled.

"That fuckin' cow. If ya were dangerous ya would've attacked me or somethin'." Missy didn't answer her, her mind was too filled with thoughts of what would happen to her if the police found her and took her back to Renee. She didn't look up from her shoes until she felt Eden throw her arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, hon."

Missy couldn't get back on the bus fast enough, and she didn't relax and unclench until they reached San Francisco. Every inch of the way she felt like Renee was in her head, telling her she'd find her soon. Eden tried to cheer her with talk about her acting dreams and what she would do to Renee if she ever bumped into her in a dark alley. When the bus rolled by the welcome sign and Missy let out an involuntary cry of joy.

"Murder capital of the world? Jesus, Miss, ya sure now how to pick 'em." Missy didn't care what the sign said, the first time she laid eyes on the boardwalk she knew that Santa Carla was the perfect place for her.

"It's perfect." She said, as eager to get out and explore her new town as she was reluctant to leave her new friend. The bus rolled to a stop, and the driver called out.

"Santa Carla." Missy whipped around to face the woman who, in the course of one day, five hours, and fifteen minutes, had become her truest and only friend. Eden didn't look at her, she was fiddling with something on her wrist.

"Here." She said, and dropped something in Missy's palm. It was a rope bracelet, and hanging from it was a wooden charm in the shape of a mask of some sort. "My ma gave me this. She was from some place in Africa and she was always goin' on 'bout evil spirits and stupid shit like that. The neighbors said it was voodoo or somethin'. My dad, he was white, and he used to get real pissed when she started goin' off but that never stopped her. The day that I moved out, she gave me this." She pointed at the charm. "See that? That's Ubuso, he's a guardian spirit. He's supposed to bring good luck and keep ya safe or some shit like that. At least that's what my ma told me when she gave it to me." She tied the bracelet around Missy's wrist and when she was finished, she leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

"I can't take your bracelet, Eden. Your mother gave it to you." Missy tried to take it off but Eden caught both her hands in hers.

"Leave it, Miss. I don't need it anymore. I think my ma would want you to have it. She would have liked you. You're as crazy as she is." Eden ruffled her hair and Missy smiled. "Take care of yourself out there, Missy. The world's a rough place, and you're a sweet kid. If you're not careful, the world will chew you up and spit you right the fuck out. So watch out for creeps and guys named Steve." Missy laughed. "Be good to yourself and never let anybody tell you who you are. You're a good kid, Miss, and you don't deserve the fucked up life God handed you." Eden was crying now. "Things are gonna change for you, kid. Just so long as you remember that no matter how bad things get-"

"It can't rain all the fucking time." Missy finished, the tears in her own eyes bringing her voice to crack.

"Damn straight." Eden leaned in and squeezed her arms tight around her. "Good luck, girl."

Missy watched the bus drive away until she couldn't see it anymore, feeling like a piece of her heart had been ripped off and was driving off in the bus with Eden. She took a long, shuddering breath and turned around to face the boardwalk. It was alive and crawling with people, even at midnight. Rich, interesting people like Missy had never seen. Boys with spiky green hair and women with tattoos all over their bodies. It was new, it was a little intimidating, but it was home now.

Her home, and as she looked around, she couldn't help thinking that the guy in the bus station had been right.

She wasn't going to find her Peter Pan here.

**Thank you for reading.**


	3. Where the Wild Things Are

_"Life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death, that's all."  
_

Chapter Three

Missy had never truly been on her own before, as much as Renee had been exceptional at making her feel like she had no one else in the world. She'd kept her away from the rest of her family, aunts and uncles, and grandparents; anyone who might challenge her for custody. Despite that, she'd never had to depend on herself to survive before. It hadn't seemed so harrowing back in Seattle, staring at a house that was no longer a home; but now, over eight hundred miles from the house she had grown up in; she wasn't feeling so certain.

The California air was warm. Even still, hours after the sun had gone down, the boardwalk was alive with people undeterred by the coolness that the night brought to it. The different fragrances around her assaulted her senses. Foods frying, the sweetness of the cotton candy, all mixed with the tangy saltiness of the sea air made her head spin. The music from the carousel was loud and the lights blinded her.

She thought she must have stepped off the bus into a completely different world.

The wind blew the warm, earthy smell of wood burning up from the beach and she stopped to close her eyes and inhale the scent that took her right back to Seattle, to the house on the lake where she had spent summers with her family. She could see the wooden interior of the lake house in her mind, hear her father and grandfather complaining about the bad weather, and the memory was so perfect that she forgot all about the boardwalk and its lights. The wood crackled in the fireplace and she could have sworn that she could see the newspaper that her grandfather had used to light it curling up at the edges and turning black all over. Her mother stood in the doorway to the kitchen, talking to her grandmother where she would be making lunch, and she was stunned by the clarity of her mother's face in her mind. Her hair was short and the same reddish blonde color she remembered, and when her mother turned in the doorway to look at her, there was recognition in her big green eyes. The realism of the memory startled her right out of her revelry and she found herself back on the boardwalk in Santa Carla, California instead of the cozy lake house; and she was alone. She had been ten when her mother died. All of her memories before her death were fuzzy, fragmented in some places. Her whole life was divided between the time spent with her mother; and the time spent with the woman who shared her mother's face.

The last in a long line of therapists that Missy had seen in dealing with her mother's death, something her father had said she wasn't able to do on her own; had told her that these memories had become unclear because of the traumatic nature of her relationship with her mother. Something in Missy's mind had broken off when her mother tried to kill her, and that shard had severed the linear path of her memories. She forgot things, things she had known her whole life, and sometimes she had trouble forming new memories. It was the instability of her ability to retain new and old information that concerned her father first. She had never been able to deal with the way that her father looked at her after her mother's death, always picking and choosing what he said to her with the greatest of care. Trying not to set her off. Always trying not to do something that might make her snap, just in case her mother's mental illness had been passed along to her.

Always just in case.

But none of that mattered anymore. Not the looks, not the therapy, they were a lifetime away from her now. She smiled at the thought. Her other life. She had a new one now, a new start to make, and therein lied the problem. How to make that start. She had the wherewithal, the money, but she had no clue how to go about finding a place to stay in the middle of the night. She lifted her wrist to look at her watch and remembered she'd put it in her pocket. The face read ten minutes past twelve, she'd been standing around like a simpleton for ten minutes already. A bell rang somewhere to her right and a woman cheered as her special someone handed her a stuffed bear. Missy sighed. She had no idea what she was doing. She needed a place to live. There was a bulletin board not far from where she was standing, and with a renewed determination to make it on her own, she maneuvered her way through the ever-growing boardwalk throng to reach it.

She hoped to find an advertisement for an apartment, a hotel at least, but what she found instead was a collage of posters all fitting one grand theme. Missing persons posters, the board was covered in them, and when she lifted one, there were three more beneath it. She touched the board and smiled to herself. Renee was never going to find her. She could telephone her and tell her exactly where she was, and Renee could search Santa Carla for the rest of her life and never find her. Hers would be just another face on the board, and in a week, it would be like her picture had never been there at all. More posters would come and cover hers, but would the fear of Renee discovering her ever dissipate? She doubted that it ever would, at least until she was legally old enough to live on her own, and that wasn't for another three months. The odds that Renee would stop chasing her when she turned eighteen were too slim to hope on it. Renee was a determined person, and if she wanted she'd just tell the police she wasn't psychologically stable enough to live on her own, just to spite her for running away in the first place.

She wouldn't let it happen. She'd be invisible, low-key, stay off the radar for years if she had to, until Renee gave up and figured her for lost or for dead.

She was a little of both.

"Little far from Kansas, aren't we, Dorothy?" The voice was so unexpected that she ripped the poster she was holding right off the board. Panicking, she bent to retrieve it and return it to its place on the wall. The man who had spoken to her was laughing now, and Missy thought he looked a little young to have a white streak in his hair like he did. She saw a man on television once who had white in his hair because he'd been struck by lightning. It occurred to her, as she watched the laughing man high-five his friends, that that probably wasn't the case here. "Didn't you hear me, Dorothy?"

"Not from Kansas." Missy replied, because it didn't seem like the stranger was going to leave her alone until she did. The stranger and his friends laughed harder, and when she turned her back on them to walk away, the stranger caught her backpack and stopped her.

"Hey, Dorothy, where're you going? Don't you want to talk to us?" The men laughed again and a red flag somewhere in Missy's brain shot up. She had a feeling that it was men like these five that were the reason why there were so many faces on the missing persons board.

She contemplated screaming. She didn't think it would help. There were people screaming all over the boardwalk, screaming on the rollercoaster, screaming because their boyfriend won them a prize. Nobody would even bat an eyelash if she joined them. The man with the skunk hair seemed to know what she was thinking, and slid an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, and a picture of a missing poster with her face on it flashed into her mind again. The man turned her away from the board and she knew she had to act before she gave herself the time to doubt. She threw her elbow into the man's stomach with as much force behind it as she could muster. His arm flew off her shoulders to join the other one in holding his stomach, and her feet were going the moment she was free.

She didn't stop to excuse herself as she barreled past people, or to look behind her. She just ran until she thought her lungs were going to burst in her chest, stopping in front of a store when the need to catch her breath became too pressing to ignore. She doubled over her knees, taking slow breaths and trying not to make herself dizzy. The last thing she needed was to pass out in foreign territory with no identification on her. She didn't hear the door open behind her, and she didn't notice the exiting patron until they ran into her.

The force knocked her down on her hands and knees, and she heard something hit the pavement beside her. Someone was laughing, and for a moment she thought they might be laughing at her, until she lifted her head and saw a boy with long curly hair like a girl's in a colorful jacket helping another boy with long blonde hair off the ground. There were two other boys behind them, one with hair that was almost white, and another that wasn't wearing a shirt. She'd never seen so many boys with long hair before.

"What're you doing standing in front of a door like that?" The one who had fallen dusted himself off and glared at her. "Are you a professional pain in the ass or do you just do this in your free time? Watch where you're going." He snapped at her, and she winced. It was obvious that the masculine part of him had been wounded by his friends seeing him stumble, but Missy wasn't about to let someone speak to her like that, the way Renee used to.

"What are you doing running out of a store like that without checking first to see if someone's in front of it? It's a public sidewalk and I can stand wherever I want." The boys were silent, and Missy got the impression that they didn't find her newfound sense of self-worth so impressive. The one with platinum hair was staring at her in a way she couldn't understand. It made her skin feel hot the way he looked at her, so she focused on the tall skinny one who'd yelled at her. "Maybe you should watch where you're going and how about helping a girl off the ground and apologizing for knocking her flat instead of acting like a complete…" She struggled for a minute, because several words that accurately described the statuesque blonde came to mind, but only one covered all of the bases she could see. "Like a complete asshole."

The boy with the curly hair was snickering behind his hand, and the tall blonde was looking at her different now. There was some surprise in his eyes, but not anger, and he was smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" Missy's courage evaporated, and she felt smaller than ever surrounded by the boys who laughed at her. She was beginning to rethink shouting at a group of strange men in a strange town and making a scene in front of a video store. These guys could be twice as bad as skunk head. They certainly made her think danger, even if the worst they were doing was laughing at her. Something about them told all the parts of her that were supposed to warn her about danger that these boys were it, the real deal. Why had she yelled at them in the first place? What had she been thinking? She was trying to survive, not get herself killed by a bunch of bikers because she didn't have the sense to keep her mouth shut.

"You gonna yell at me for smiling too?" The tall blonde said, sticking a hand out like he wanted to shake hers. She stared at it like he had something foul on his palm, glancing up at him. She didn't know what to make of his radical change of behavior, what was he trying to pull? He made a sound like a cross between a laugh and a sigh and reached down to slip his hand under her jacket, curling his hand under her arm and with an ease she wouldn't have expected from the lanky male, hoisted her up with one hand. She bit back a gasp, but her eyes were wide. He was strong. She'd gone off on a guy who could lift her with one hand. Brilliant. She blamed Eden. She'd infected her, like some sort of loud, obnoxious plague that had her shouting at random people on the street.

The boys were quiet, and the one with the white hair was looking at her strange again. He made her feel like a bird being watched by a snake.

"Alright, well, it's been great, but I'm gonna…go…now." Missy turned in the opposite direction and started walking, shutting her eyes and listening for the sound of footsteps that would mean that the boys were following her. There was nothing, and she didn't have the courage to look back and see if the four of them were still watching her. So she kept on, eyes ahead, until she was in front of the carousel again. She felt safe, close to the lights and sounds of the spinning ride.

It was beautiful. She loved carousels from the first moment she saw the Rogers and Hammerstein musical performed at the university in Seattle. Staring up at the lights, hearing the music, she almost expected to see Billy Bigelow standing in front of the carousel. It was a shame that they didn't use barkers any more, though from the line of people waiting to ride, she didn't think the carousel had any troubles getting patrons.

She thought about purchasing a ticket, riding the merry-go-round until she could think of something better to do. She might have, even, but before she could get in line, the rumble of something loud and mechanical made her turn so sharply that she nearly stumbled. Four snarling motorcycles, screaming like wildcats, and astride each of them, one of the four boys she'd met outside the video store. So they were bikers, after all.

Figures.

The tall, wiry blonde who'd knocked her down out in front of the video store revved his bike's engine and waggled his eyebrows at her. Missy was so intent on him that she didn't even hear the white haired one speaking.

"You ran off so fast before, Paul didn't get a chance to apologize," he was saying, and Missy whipped her head around to look at him instead.

"What?" She asked, and he smiled. She felt like a bug in front of him. Like an ant crawling on the sidewalk, minding your own business until a kid with a magnifying glass comes along and boils your insides until they explode. The boy with the platinum hair was more of a man than a boy, and he didn't have a magnifying glass on him that Missy could see. Though he certainly made her feel like her insides were boiling.

"Are you always this spacey?" The wiry blonde, Paul, asked, crossing his arms and leaning forward to rest them on his bike's handlebars.

"Are you always this annoying?" Missy rolled her eyes to look at him again, and he grinned wolfishly.

"Pretty much fulltime." The boys laughed again, and Missy was beginning to grow more agitated by the second.

"If you don't have anything to say, can you just leave me alone? I'm not really in the mood to deal with you guys stalking me for the rest of the night." The one in the colorful jacket tossed something to the platinum haired one and he held it up for her to see.

"We just thought you might want this back." He waited for her to lean in before smiling and adding, "Missy." In his left hand was a chain of gold. Hanging from the chain was a flat heart pendant with a floral design on the front and a single, tiny heart in the center. He turned it around so she could see that there was something engraved on the back. She didn't need to see the name, she knew it was her own. Her hand flew to her throat.

"My locket." It must have come unhooked when Paul knocked her down. She thought about reaching out to take it back, but the look in the white haired man's eyes told her that he wasn't going to surrender it easily. "What do you want?"

The man was thoughtful for a minute, turning the necklace over in his hands. "Nothing at all, Missy. We were just wondering what has to happen to a girl to make her run away from this." He popped the locket open and turned her parents' faces toward her. She turned hers away, closing her eyes. "I'm curious, Missy."

"That's none of your business." She whispered, raising her eyes to meet the platinum haired man's. "Thank you for bringing my locket back to me." She held out her empty hand and he stared at it for a few long seconds before dropping the locket in her open palm.

"No trouble at all." His smiled seemed dangerous to her, and she unconsciously took a step away from the leonine male.

"See you later, right?" Paul leaned over his bike, smiling so wide she worried for a second that the sides of his head might split open from the force pulling on them. "You're staying here, right?" Something about the childish man made her feel at ease, and where she might have lied to him, she found herself nodding along with his logic. "Cool." He said, revving his bike again. "See you later, Missay." He winked at her and her face flushed.

"See you soon." The blonde leader said, so soft that she almost didn't hear. "Let's go boys." The motorcycles peeled out and as Missy stared at the locket in her hand she couldn't help thinking that Santa Carla was more different than Seattle than she had thought it would be.

Very different, indeed.

**Thank you for reading.**


	4. Frogs and First Name Basis

**Ye ask, and ye receive. A speedy update, enjoy.**

_"Someone who thinks death is the scariest thing doesn't know a thing about life." _

Chapter Four

The boardwalk was spectacular, every bit the perfect place to start her new life. Welcoming committee aside, it was exactly what Missy had hoped it would be when she first decided she was going to go. She wasn't going to let a few bad apples like skunk hair and his friends turn her off Santa Carla's unique charms. Of the others, like the boys in front of the store, she wasn't sure what to think. Something about them had tripped her danger detector, and she was sure something about them was off. But what in Santa Carla wasn't? Everything about the seaside town was strange. At least compared to Seattle it was. Seattle was a large city in its own right, but the Santa Carla boardwalk was a thousand times busier than anything she'd ever seen before. She watched a woman with green hair walk by and felt like she must seem alien to these people, though she could have said the same about any of the Santa Carlans if they were to walk down a street in Seattle.

She pulled her watch out of her pocket again and frowned at the dial. Twelve thirty. Time wasn't showing any signs of slowing for her, and if she wanted to avoid sleeping on a bench, she needed to find a place to stay before the boardwalk closed. She had no idea when that would be, so she mustered her dwindling vestiges of courage and yanked on the handle of the door of the first store that looked like it was still open.

The woman behind the counter was older, a brunette, with sun damaged skin that spoke of how long she'd been living by the beach. She looked up at the bell hanging above the door the same time that Missy did, though where Missy's face was curious, hers was scowling. "I hate that thing." She said of the bell before her eyes dropped to Missy and she spoke again. "Need some help, sweetheart?"

Missy took a step or two toward the counter, away from the door, and smiled tentatively. "Loads," she replied, and the woman cracked a small smile. "though I thought I'd start with finding a place to stay. Do you know where I could find a motel? Moderately priced?" She didn't want to blow all the money she had on somewhere swanky and overpriced. She didn't need the luxury, just a bed.

"Motel? Yeah, there's a couple down the road from here. Not far, if you're planning on hoofing it. But if you're looking for something a little closer, I hear the people who own the comic store are looking to rent out the room above their shop."

"Really?" Missy's spirits did that thing that usually happened right before something crushed them, and she continued cautiously. "Do you know how much they're charging?"

The woman shrugged. "That's something you're gonna have to ask them, but if you want to find out tonight, I'd hurry. The boardwalk is closing in a hour, and most of the shops will be closing before then." She said and Missy's eyes shot to clock on the wall behind the woman's head.

"Can you tell me where the comic store is from here?"

"Do you know where the arcade is?" The woman asked, and Missy shook her head.

"No, but I can find it." The woman nodded and pointed at the door.

"Go out and turn left from here. Keep walking until you see the sign for the Giant Dipper."

"Giant Dipper." Missy echoed, and the woman nodded.

"It's the big one, so keep walking until you come to the end of it and on your right you should see the arcade." The woman paused and Missy took the time to create a short, undetailed map in her head. "The comic store is right across from there. Got it?"

"Thank you." Missy crossed the last few feet between them and stuck her hand over the counter. "Thank you so much." There was a lot to be said about how few good people there were in the world, but they were there.

"Be careful out there." The woman let go of her hand and Missy left the store. She glanced to the left and realized, happily, that she could see the Giant Dipper sign from where she was standing. She followed it like north star, and let it lead her to the promised land. The crowd was thinning as the seconds ticked by, and she could see the lights going out in the distance. Her feet moved faster, and her eyes flitted around like a bee trapped in a jar, memorizing the fronts of the shops in case she needed to find her way back. The bright lights reading 'arcade' fizzed out in front of her eyes and she spun, laughing as she read the next sign.

Frog's Comics. The racks of comics were being rolled inside the door by two teenage boys. They couldn't have been more than a few years younger than Missy. They must work in the shop for their parents, she figured. She slipped past one of the boys, the one with the darker hair, and gave the shop a once over. It was empty except for the boys, her, and an older couple in dark glasses sleeping against a rack of comics. They must be the boys parents, she thought, and she took a step toward them. "Excuse me."

"They won't hear you." She turned, startled, to find that the boy with the dark hair was standing beside her.

"I'm sorry, but I-"

"We're closed." The one in the headband growled as he pushed past her carrying a cardboard box filled with comics.

"I can see that, but I wanted to-"

"We're closed." The dark haired one grabbed her elbow and started to pull her toward the door. "Come back tomorrow if you want a comic, don't expect us to stay after hours so you can browse."

"Well, wait just a minute!" She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and backed away from him, into the store. "I don't want a comic! What I want is to ask about the room I was told you're renting out."

The boy with the dark hair stopped trying to force her out and the one with the headband grunted at her. "Well why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I tried." Missy glared at him, and he glared right back.

"Fine. What's your name?" He walked by the counter and crouched down, disappearing from her line of sight.

"Missy." She replied, watching the dark haired one, who was watching her like he thought she might try to steal something.

"Your name is Missy?" The headband wearing one's face appeared over the countertop and his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

"Do you have a problem with that?" There was nothing wrong with the nickname that her parents had given her, not that she could see, and she wasn't about to let a preteen boy who dressed like Rambo mock her. But Rambo just grunted at her, and disappeared again. "What are your names?" She directed the question at the dark haired one, who raised one corner of his lip and snarled at her.

"Edgar." The one behind the counter said. His hand came up into sight and a finger was jabbed in the direction of the dark haired one. "Alan."

"Edgar and Alan…Frog?" Missy asked, and they grunted in unison. She snorted. "And you don't like my name?"

Edgar popped up from behind the counter with a clipboard in his hands. He pointed to the door. "If you don't want the room, you can go."

"No, I want the room." She insisted, though she shot an uncertain glance at the sleeping couple and back at the boys. "But maybe I should be speaking to your parents instead?"

Edgar glanced at the sleeping adults and grunted. "They're not the ones renting the room, so if you want the room, you need to talk to us. Do you want the room or not?"

"I already told you I do." Missy had trouble for a minute, believing what was happening to her. She was standing in a comic book store, eight hundred miles from her childhood home, renting a room from a couple of teenagers.

"We have to ask you a couple of questions first." Edgar told her. "See if you're the type of person we want to be renting a room to."

"Alright." Missy was becoming less confident by the second, but she accepted the chair Alan dragged out from the back of the store for her, and sat down.

"Question number one, how old are you?" Missy hesitated. It was an easy enough question, but did she really think that these boys would want to rent a room to someone who hadn't even graduated high school yet? Even more worrisome, if they suspected she was a runaway, would they call the police? "Nineteen." She lied, and the Frog brothers glanced at each other, and back at her.

"You don't look nineteen." Alan said, and Missy stared sharply at him.

"Yes, well, I can stand on my head and say the alphabet backwards too, but I bet you can't tell that just by looking at me."

"Whatever, next question." Edgar wrote something down on his clipboard, and when he lifted his eyes to look at her again, his expression was grave. "Are you now or have you ever been a vampire?" For a moment, Missy wasn't sure whether to laugh because she thought it was a joke, or laugh because she thought Edgar was being serious. Seconds passed and when neither Edgar or Alan's stony expressions wavered, she worried it was the latter.

"You're serious?" She asked, and they grunted.

"You think we'd joke about something like that? Answer the question." Missy wasn't sure how she felt about renting a room from people who might break in while she was sleeping and try to stick a stake through her. If her situation hadn't been so desperate, she might have told the Frog brothers that they were crazy and left to go find a bench to sleep on. The fact remained that her situation was desperate and getting more desperate by the second. Edgar and Alan might have been a little off, but how dangerous could a couple of preteens possibly be?

"…no." She said at last, and saw their bodies relax simultaneously. They glanced at each other, and back at her.

"Are you now or have you ever been a werewolf?" The brothers leaned in for her answer, and a little voice in her head told her that these boys had to be out of their minds. That or they'd read way, way too many comic books.

"No." She said, and again the brothers relaxed. "Are all the questions like this?"

"No." Edgar scribbled something down on his clipboard, and his eyes flickered back to her face. "Are you now or have you ever been a witch?" Missy had a sudden vision of what living with the Frogs might be like. It wasn't a pleasant one.

She answered them nonetheless, though she was beginning to find the questions less amusing and more annoying with every new one."No." What would be next, she wondered. Was she now or had she ever been involved with the swamp thing? Did she know Dr. Frankenstein personally? Did she by any chance happen to spend her evenings sacrificing goats and/or young virgins?

Edgar stopped writing and looked up at her again. From his expression, she might have thought he was interrogating a murderer, not interviewing a possible tenant. "Are you a smoker?"

Missy couldn't help herself. She laughed, and once she'd started, she found that it had become impossible to stop. She knew how hysterical she must have sounded, she could certainly see it in Edgar and Alan's faces. She hadn't slept properly in a day, she'd been too afraid the entire ride from Seattle to shut her eyes for long. She was being interviewed by a couple of teenage monster hunters, and they wanted to know if she smoked. The Frog brothers ran around the back of the counter and came back with a big wooden cross. She took one look at it, and lost all ability to breathe. She hid her face in her hands and doubled over, gasping as tears forced out by her laughter streamed down her face. "I'm sorry." She wiped her face with her hands, in turn spreading the moisture on her jeans and trying to compose her expression before the Frog brothers tried to throw holy water on her. "I didn't mean to laugh, I've had a really weird day, and it all just sort of hit me at once." Edgar nodded, but he didn't put the cross away. "And no, I'm not a smoker." Alan reached out for the clipboard that Edgar had dropped and conferred with his brother.

"Do you want to see the room?"

Missy leaned against the counter and watched Edgar and Alan slide the front doors closed and lock them. She helped them put the boxes of comics that they hadn't gotten the chance to put out on the floor yet in the back room, and when they were done, they led her to the side of the store, to a set of stairs she hadn't noticed before. "What about your parents?" She asked, stopping to look back at the couple who hadn't yet realized the sixties were dead…or that the store had closed around them while they were sleeping.

Edgar and Alan looked back at their parents and frowned. "We'll wake them up and chase them upstairs later. Come on." Edgar grabbed her elbow and pulled her behind him. The stairs led them to a short hallway with two doors on the right, and two on the left.

"Bathroom." Alan said, thumping his hand on the first closed doorway on the left. "Keep your girly crap in your room or it'll just get tossed. Don't put anything in the medicine cabinet, and don't touch our toothbrushes." Edgar tugged on her arm again, and Missy pulled it away from him, glaring.

"I can walk by myself, thank you." He glared back at her, but didn't say anything. He walked to the next door and put his hand on it.

"Our parents' room." Missy could almost hear the quotations around the word, she wondered how the boys managed to take care of themselves and the shop without somebody calling the police because their parents were MIA, mentally speaking. She figured it must be for the same reason that there were so many missing persons on the bulletin board. "This is our room." Edgar's voice brought her out of her mind again, and she realized that he had backpedaled, and was standing in front of the first door on the right hand side.

"You're not allowed in here." Alan said. "Ever."

"Under any circumstances, are we clear?" Edgar moved to stand beside his brother, and they glared at her in tandem.

Missy glanced at their doorway, and back at them. Like she wanted to barge in and catch them looking at nudie magazines, anyway. Though it was probably more likely that she'd catch them carving stakes than looking at porn. "Crystal."

The last door was hers, then. Well, if the Frogs weren't too suspicious of her, and as long as they weren't planning on charging her a fortune for it. Edgar turned the knob and pushed the door in, gesturing with one hand for her to walk past him. He flipped a switch on the wall by the door as they followed her in, bathing the insides in artificial light.

The room was small, smaller than hers in Seattle had been. The bed too, was small, and the coverlet that looked like a teenage boy had made it, was covered in a thin layer of dust. No one had touched the room in a long time, she realized. She smacked the bedspread with her hand and a cloud of dust rose into the air. As she coughed, she decided that she wouldn't be sleeping on it until she'd had a chance to beat the dust bunnies out of it. There was a wooden armoire, empty, against one wall. A small table beside the bed with a lamp on it, and against the right wall was a tiny bookshelf, also empty. The last thing in the room was a closed door, a couple of feet from the bookshelf. "Closet?" She asked, nodding at the door.

"No, leads to our room." Edgar explained, though she couldn't see the reason behind the door. "It's locked on our side, so don't try sneaking into our room that way, got it?"

"Got it." She set her bag down on the bed and swiveled to face the Frogs. "So, how much?"

The brothers did their huddling thing again, turning their backs to her and leaning their heads together. Every now and then they would glance in her direction. It was beginning to make her nervous. When at last they seemed to reach a decision, they turned to face her again. "One hundred."

"A month?" She asked, her eyes wide. They nodded. "You're serious?" She asked, though she had a feeling the Frog brothers were always serious.

"You want us to charge you more?" Edgar grunted, and she shook her head fast.

"No, no, no, it's just. I was expecting a lot more, this is my first time renting anything from someone."

"Yeah, well, this is our first time renting anything to anybody. One hundred dollars covers your share of the bills, and so long as you agree to help us out down in the shop when we need you, the place is yours." She knew there had to be a catch, but working in a comic book store in exchange for a cheap place to live didn't sound so bad. Even if Edgar and Alan were a little crazy.

"It's a deal." She held out her hand and Edgar took it first, shook it hard, and let her go.

"We'll let you get settled in." Edgar tapped his brother on the shoulder, and the two of them left, closing the door behind them.

Missy took a careful look around the room after they'd gone, and found that it was hard to see the dusty bed and empty dresser as her home, even if the tiny room was it now. She unbuckled her book bag and upended it, thinking that if she got her things put away, it might help the reality of things sink in. She carried her map over to the bookshelf with her frayed and worn copy of Wilde's Dorian Gray and set them both down on the top shelf. She wouldn't need the map anymore, she realized, but she was reluctant to part with it nonetheless. She supposed she was being silly and sentimental.

Her clothes followed, folded or hung in the dresser, and she lamented the fact that she'd chosen such a sunny place for her new home, and brought nothing suitable. A pair of scissors would remedy that, no problem, at least when it came to her jean pants. She'd figure something out for the rest of her wardrobe.

Her money she hid between the pages of Gray, though she doubted the Frog brothers would bother trying to steal it.

The last thing to leave her bag was a silver framed picture of her parents. The same picture, albeit a smaller print, as the one she wore around her neck. It had been the only picture of her father together with her mother than Renee had allowed in the house, partly because of the fit Missy had pitched when she tried to get rid of it. She had an irrational attachment to the picture, her parents on their wedding day. Mostly, she realized, because beneath her mother's white gown, in her belly, was a baby. A baby Missy. It was too early in her mother's pregnancy for her to be showing, but knowing that she was there on that day with them, that she might be the reason her parents were looking at each other the way they were when the picture was taken, it made all the bad years seem worth it. She didn't realize she was crying until moisture blossomed on the glass in her hands. There was a quiet knock on her door, and she made sure her eyes were dry before she tried speaking. She was surprised when her voice didn't shake. "Come in." The door opened a crack, and Edgar stuck his head in.

"All unpacked?" She nodded. "We got something for you." He came a little farther into the room, and she noticed that Alan was with him. The darker haired Frog brother pulled something from behind his back. It was a stake. One end was sharpened into a point, the other looked like it had once been the leg of a table.

"Here." He dropped the stake into her lap, and she felt the bed shift beneath her as Edgar crawled onto it behind her. A loud, sharp sound made her turn her head, and she discovered that Edgar was standing, hammering a nail through a cross into her wall. "You can't be too careful in Santa Carla." Alan was explaining, and she was sure her jaw must have been brushing the floor. "Keep that under your pillow." He took the stake from her limp hands and slid it behind her, underneath where her head would lay at night. Alan was talking, still, but she wasn't hearing him. She was staring at the picture on the bed beside her. Her parents' smiling faces stared back, and it was hard not to miss them. She wished things were different, but no amount of wishing was going to change things, she knew that. All she could do was change how she looked at things. Her mother was gone, her father was gone, and she was alone in a strange town, more alone than she'd ever been in her life, with a strange boy nailing a cross to the wall above her bed.

Edgar finished with the cross and jumped down from the bed to join his brother. "There, that should make the bloodsuckers think twice." Missy's eyes strayed from the ominous symbol on her wall, to Edgar's stern face.

"Thank you." She said, and Edgar just shrugged.

"We just don't want you coming home one night and slaughtering us in our sleep."

"I'll try to control myself." Missy said, only half as serious as Edgar and Alan looked.

"The store closes at twelve thirty every night, be in before one or you'll get locked out, okay?" She nodded and they walked to the door again. "Oh, and Missy?"

"Yes?" She said, the weariness that she had been fighting off beginning to set in. Edgar had one hand on her door, the other on the frame. They were watching her again, and as the door creaked shut, Edgar and Alan's voices floated across the room, the last thing she heard before the door closing.

"Welcome to Santa Carla."

**Thank you for reading.**


	5. Strange New World

**Chapter five, in which nothing of consequence happens, save for the author satisfying her need for a daily dose of Frog. Try to enjoy.**

_"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. "_

Chapter Five

"Missy."

It's a funny thing, waking up the first morning in a new environment. There is that first moment after opening one's eyes, when nothing seems familiar, and one's first instinct is to panic. It is never a wise decision, naturally, to be the person standing over someone when that moment of overwhelming, sudden panic strikes.

The first thing that Missy was aware of after opening her eyes wasn't that her blanket seemed to have fallen or been ripped from her body in the middle of the night. It wasn't that Alan was standing, well, was doubled over, beside her bed. It wasn't even that Alan's lip seemed to be bleeding.

No, the first thing she noticed was that she was hungry. That painfully deep, gnawing variety of hungry that can only come from being too frightened to eat for a day and a half. It turned her insides so viciously that for a moment, Missy mistook the feeling, and feared she was about to be sick. "You kicked me!" Alan's hand appeared in her line of sight, and his finger waved in front of her face.

"You shouldn't have been standing over my bed." Missy said, but she grabbed the hem of the shirt she'd slept in and lifted it away from her stomach. "It's already stopping." She dabbed at his lip, frowning. "You're going to have a split lip for a couple of days, though." Alan was adamantly avoiding looking at her, glaring instead at the wall behind her head. His face was red, and she thought he must have been embarrassed about a girl giving him a bloody lip. "Look, see, it's finished now." She let her shirt drop back down and smiled.

Alan just grunted at her. "Edgar's getting you up from now on." He turned around and headed for her door, leaving Missy to fight off a smile once his back was turned.

A good portion of her first night in Santa Carla was fuzzy, and the events of the night before were blurred together in her mind. She wasn't sure if skunk head or the boys in front of the video store had been real, or just a product of her exhaustion, but one thing was abundantly clear to her as she listened to her angry stomach snarl. The tour that the Frog brothers had given her hadn't included a kitchen. "Hey, wait!" She called out, and from the hall, past the door where she could no longer see him, Alan's voice came back.

"What?"

"Do you have a kitchen?" There was a moment or two of silence on Alan's part, and Missy worried he might still be sore about her hitting him, and was ignoring her . "Alan?"

"Sort of." Missy stared at the door across from her bed, her sluggish morning mind trying to process what it had just been given.

"Wait, sort of? Alan!" She rolled off the bed and ran through her door. Alan was at the top of the stairs now, and her hand shot out to grab his bare arm. "That doesn't make any sense!" He turned his head and glared at his elbow. Her eyes followed his to her pale hand on his darker skin, and she let him go. "How can you sort of have a kitchen?"

"I didn't say we sort of had a kitchen." Alan corrected her, and as much as he was frustrating her, she waited for him to continue without comment. "I said it was 'sort of' a kitchen."

That made, if possible, less sense to her, and Missy frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"See for yourself." Stupid cryptic Frog brother. "It's in there." She followed his finger and found herself staring at the closed door to the Frog brothers' parents' bedroom. She heard the stairs creak behind her and knew Alan was gone without looking. She wasn't sure how she felt about going into the Frog parents' bedroom without their permission. She didn't want to walk in on them sleeping, or worse, awake. It was a lot easier, she was realizing, dealing with Edgar and Alan, who were closer to her own age. What if the Frog parents experienced a, from what she could garner, rare moment of lucidity and realized her for what she was? Would they throw her out, or worse, would they call the police who'd, in turn, call Renee?

"What are you standing in the middle of the hallway for?" Life with the Frog brothers was going to take some getting used to, Missy realized as for the second time since waking, she found a Frog had snuck up on her. Living with Renee, they had each of them done their part to avoid the other. It had been a lot like living alone, really. It wasn't the same with Edgar and Alan. She couldn't seem to shake them if she tried.

Edgar was standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her, with a blue toothbrush in his right hand, a tube of Crest in the other. He was glaring, an expression that Missy was becoming used to seeing on him. She was surprised to see him with a toothbrush, though, because from everything she'd heard about teenage boys, she hadn't thought that they had the initiative to brush their teeth without being told to. "Are your parents in there?" The younger Frog sneered at the word, and she made a note in her head not to use it around him anymore.

"They're down in the shop already." He disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. She heard the water in the sink start running and glanced at the parents' door again. No time like the present, she figured, and it was better that she learn the state of the sort of kitchen before she went grocery shopping. Her hand wrapped around the knob and she took a breath for courage before turning it. The door swung inward, and she felt along the wall for the light switch, flipping it. The room was only a hair bigger than hers, and she found it hard to believe, from the state of it, that anyone lived in the room. The bed was made, but the comforter was wrinkled like someone had been sleeping on top of it. The curtains were drawn, and made of a thick, heavy material that blocked out the light from the windows. If she had been half as paranoid as Edgar and Alan, she might have been concerned that the boy's parents were vampires.

To her a right she could see a short wall that jutted out from the other, only partway into the room. She walked around the partition and she realized at once what Alan had meant. It was a kitchenette, like the one that had been in their room the time that she and her father had stayed at a hotel to be closer to her mother in the hospital. There were two cabinets up high and a shelf beneath them, with a microwave on it. Beneath the shelf was a counter with a small sink on one side, and an empty box of cereal on the other. Set in the counter, closest to the floor, were two more cabinets, and a small white fridge. Kneeling, she pulled the door of the fridge open and looked inside. A carton of milk, expired. A container of beef and broccoli, a half eaten burger with a handful of fries, and something fuzzy that might have once been a piece of fruit. Disgusted, she shut the fridge and turned on the cabinets instead. The two lowest cabinets were both empty, and between the top most ones she found an unopened box of cereal, and three bags of chips.

She shut the cabinets and left the bedroom, jogged down the stairs and cornered Edgar and Alan behind the counter. "You don't even have bread!"

They glanced at each other, and back at her. "What are you talking about?" Edgar asked her, and she turned and pointed up the stairs.

"How are you two still alive? You've got nothing at all up in that kitchen." Alan snorted and Edgar rolled his eyes.

"We're on the boardwalk." The younger Frog grunted at her and hoisted a box of comics up off the floor. "Go get something if you're hungry."

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that you survive on nothing but cotton candy and corndogs." When neither of them answered her, she groaned in disgust. "Oh my god! I'm surprised you both are still breathing! It's not healthy to eat nothing but fried food all day!"

"Stop lecturing and go put some pants on." Edgar snapped at her, and she winced. Alan looked up from his box and zeroed in on her bare legs, turning red again. "This is a business, you can't be running around half naked."

Missy folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. "Fine, do you have a pair of scissors I could borrow?" The boys looked at her like she was on something.

"What do you need scissors for?"

"It's hot." Missy said, slowly, like she was talking to a pair of five year olds. "I want to use the scissors." She made a cutting motion with her left hand. "To cut my jeans." She ran her hands down her legs to symbolize pants, and pulled them back up her thighs for shorts. "Into shorts." Edgar grunted at her and leaned over to open a drawer. He came back with a pair of scissors with black handles. He held them out to her, handle first, and she took them from him. "Thank you." He nodded and Missy turned away from the brothers and jogged back up the stairs, humming.

She dropped the scissors on her bed and opened the armoire. She wanted to see what Santa Carla was like in the sun, but first, she knew, she wanted a shower. Bad. She was grateful that as big a hurry as she had been in when she left the house in Seattle, she hadn't forgotten to take a few essentials from the bathroom. She doubted the Frog brothers even new what conditioner was. She shook her head and threw a pair of jeans over her shoulder at the bed. She'd packed for cooler weather out of habit, and the balmy beach air was warmer than she was used to. She was sure a cool day in Santa Carla could rival Seattle's hottest scorcher, no trouble. While she had always been a summer sort of girl, and was certainly enjoying the new climate, it spelled bad things for her wardrobe. The only thing she'd brought with her that didn't have sleeves was a yellow, floral print camisole, and she weighed her options. She could cover up, and be miserable for the rest of the day, or she could show a little more skin that she was used to, and be somewhat comfortable. She tossed the camisole on the bed with her jeans and shut the armoire. _Heck_, she thought, _when in Rome_…

A shower had been just the thing she needed, she realized, to feel like herself again. No, she felt like a brand new person, and as she ran her brush through her hair, she was impatient to get out on the boardwalk again and see the world with the new Missy's eyes. Cutting the legs off of her jeans hadn't been as difficult as she had feared it would be, and when she was finished, she pulled on the edges until they frayed. "Perfect." She buttoned her new shorts right as her bedroom came open, and she whipped around to glare at the intruder. "It's called knocking," she discovered that the intruder was Edgar. Figures.

"My house." He snapped.

"My room." She shot back, and he grunted. "Look, I don't want to fight you, Edgar, did you need something?" She didn't like how cranky the younger Frog made her. She wasn't used to being so disagreeable to someone who wasn't Renee, and she decided then that she would make an effort to be more amicable with Edgar from now forward.

If Edgar thought that her radical change in demeanor was unusual, it didn't show. "We wanted to know if you were going out."

"I wanted to see the boardwalk." Missy replied. "I didn't really get a chance to look around last night, what with the running around and trying to find a place to stay, and I think I'd really like to ride the carousel-"

Edgar waved his hands at her and stopped her. "If you're going out, can you pick up something to eat on your way back?"

Missy scoffed. "If you think I'm going to perpetuate your foul dietary habits, then you're crazy." Edgar made a face like he was either going to interrupt her, or ask her what perpetuate meant. Either way, she shushed him with a wave of her hand. "I wanted to go grocery shopping, anyway. There's tons of things you can make, even without a stove, and I'm not going to eat myself into an early grave just because you two don't know the difference between corn and a corndog."

"Whatever, here." He tossed something at her, and when she bent to retrieve it, she realized it was a twenty dollar bill. "Try and get stuff that we're going to actually want to eat."

Missy just smiled. "Burgers and hotdogs are fine on occasion, Edgar, but not to live on."

"Yeah, well, we've survived just fine until now, Mom." He grunted the last word at her and walked away. She stared at her empty doorway for a few seconds before she let herself smile. Life with the Frogs was going to be difficult for all of them, she realized, but the twenty dollar bill in her pocket said that maybe, just maybe, Edgar and Alan were willing to try and make it work with her. She fished a fifty from between the pages of Oscar Wilde and it joined the Frog's money in her pocket. She slipped her feet into her sneakers and laced them up, patting her thighs once and pushing off of the bed with a renewed sense of adventure.

She found Edgar behind the counter, ringing up a customer, and Alan, milling around the racks, putting out new comics. "I'm off." She called to them, her whole body itching with the excitement to be out on the boardwalk. Edgar looked up from his clipboard and she heard Alan stop. Edgar's eyes met hers, and he nodded once.

"Be careful."

Missy rolled her eyes at him and smiled. "Now who's the mom?"

Edgar glared. "You think we're kidding around with all the monster stuff, but we're not. Santa Carla is crawling with vampires."

Missy nodded her head, waving her hand dismissively. "I saw the memo, I got it."

"No, you don't get it." Edgar growled, and his sudden animosity paralyzed her. He came around from the counter and stopped in front of her. "You need to start taking us seriously, or you're going to get yourself killed out there." A shiver went down Missy's spine, and despite the fact that she was standing in the sun, she felt cold.

"Look, Edgar, Alan." She added, when she noticed that the darker haired Frog had snuck up behind her. "I hear you guys, I do, and I'll be careful. It's daylight, right? And vampires can't come out in the day." The Frog brothers stared out at the world beyond the door, bathed in sunlight, and visibly relaxed. "So I'm perfectly safe."

"Until sundown." Edgar amended, and Missy sighed.

"Right. I'm going now." She backed out the store, hesitating just outside the door. "If the Wolfman calls, take a message for me, would you?" She winked and turned away, but not quick enough to miss Edgar's last word.

"It's always funny until somebody gets eaten."

Missy wasn't going to let the Frog's paranoia get to her. Vampires didn't exist, and even if they did, why would they come to California, of all places? Wouldn't they be living some place where the sun didn't shine so vehemently?

The boardwalk was a different place during the day. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and Missy realized that things didn't seem quite as magical with the lights turned on. There was still something charming about the daytime boardwalk, and there were twice as many people during the day than she remembered there being at midnight. People heading to and coming from the beach, bathing suits everywhere she turned, and the roar of the rollercoaster as it dipped and winded, its passengers screaming around every turn. She rode the carousel twice, and decided that she would try to ride a different horse every time until she'd ridden them all. Judging from the number of horses, and it was difficult to count them all when they were spinning, it would take her quite a while to ride them all.

The beach was packed with people. Adults with young children, and several groups of young men carrying surfboards under their arms. She walked the sand for ten minutes before she found a place that wasn't occupied, and sat down, undoing the laces on her shoes and wiggling her toes in the sand.

It was hard to relax. Even on a beach, with the sun warming her all over, all she could think about was what sort of progress Renee and the police might be making. She wouldn't be eighteen for another couple of months, and in the meantime, Renee could come along and take her back as soon as she was able to find her. Hiding was essential, she realized, but she wanted to enjoy her new life. How was she supposed to enjoy being away from Renee for the first time since she was twelve if she was constantly checking over her shoulder for her?

"Ugh!" She cried, kicking out at the sand and flopping onto her back, glaring up at the clear sky. Renee wouldn't give up, she knew that. Not until she turned eighteen, maybe not ever. How long would she have to keep looking over her shoulder until she finally saw Renee there?

She wondered if the Frogs had a television, she hadn't seen one, but it would be nice to be able to watch the news. By now, Renee had to know where her bus had been headed, and before long, the Seattle police would be in contact with the Santa Carla police, and they'd be looking for her. She would just have to hope that the local police wouldn't take the search for her too seriously.

Edgar and Alan didn't seem as happy to see her with grocery bags as she would have expected, and neither one of them seemed to appreciate the fifteen minute walk away from the boardwalk that she'd had to take to find a grocery store. She also noticed, as she struggled with the bags, that neither one of them seemed to have a chivalrous bone between them. "Um, help?" Alan was the first to react, coming around the counter to take the bags from her that were cutting the circulation off to her hands.

"You did see the fridge right?" Edgar asked her as she handed him a bag to carry. "All of this isn't going to fit."

"Oh, it's mostly dry or canned stuff, you'd be surprised." Missy led the way to the small kitchen and dropped the last few bags on the floor. "Okay, dry goods, top cabinets, canned goods, bottom cabinets. That way, if something falls out of the top cabinets and clonks you on the head, it won't be a can!" She chirped, and the brothers winced at her cheery nature.

"Did you get a lobotomy while you were out?" Edgar raised an eyebrow at her, and she glared.

"Shut up and help your brother put the groceries away."

"You're not helping?" He asked, and she scoffed.

"I carried them all the way here. But you two have fun!" Missy slapped him on the back and left, leaving them to stare after her back, and wonder what exactly they'd gotten themselves into.

**Thank you for reading.**


	6. If Wishes Were Horses

**Introducing Chapter six, in which the Boys return, and stuff of consequence happens.**

_"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."_

Chapter Six

Old habits die hard. It was an expression that Missy had always taken for granted, but she was beginning to think that in trying to get the Frog brothers to break some of their worse habits, that she had entered herself into a losing battle. She was learning quickly, and she'd only spent a day with the Frogs, that teenage boys were about seven times as horrible and poorly mannered as her mother had told her. Between chewing with their mouths open, and Missy was certain that she'd never seen two creatures with poorer eating habits in all of the animal kingdom, leaving their dirty clothes in the bathroom, and forgetting to put the cap back on the toothpaste when they were through with it, they'd effectively managed to drive her up the wall in less than twelve hours. There was also their infallible talent for popping up when they were least wanted, and invading the privacy of her room under the pretense of 'random vampire screenings'. She'd had to drag her armoire in front of the door just to keep them out of her room long enough for her to have a moment to herself.

"Missy?" She groaned into her pillow, but didn't get up. Nothing short of the apocalypse, complete with raining hellfire, could have gotten her off of that bed.

"What is it, Alan?" She heard him jiggle the handle and snickered when the door smacked against the back of her dresser.

"Did you…did you barricade your door?" She rolled over and sat up, smiling in the direction of her doorway.

"Uh-huh."

"…why?"

"To keep you and your brother out." She'd only spent a day with them, and already she wanted to throttle them within inches of their lives. "Look, I appreciate you both giving me a place to live, and for pennies, practically. And you're great, both of you, but I'm just not used to living with other people yet, and I'm just sort of trying to adjust. Plus your brother is driving me crazy!" She heard him chuckle, and she realized that she rather liked the older Frog brother. He didn't make her half as nuts as his brother did, and anyone who could be civil to someone who'd given them a split lip was someone Missy wanted to be friends with.

"Well, it's eight, just thought you might want to know. You know, in case you wanted to go out."

Moving the armoire was a lot harder in reverse, Missy realized, and she was sweating by the time she got it back against the wall. She opened the door, and found Alan on the other side of it, still. "You heard me struggling with that thing, you couldn't have helped me push it back?" She was grumping, sure, but she was grinning from ear to ear for some reason.

The darker haired Frog just shrugged. "It sounded like you were doing alright." Missy rolled her eyes at him and bumped his shoulder with hers on her way to the bathroom. She ran cold water in the sink, splashing it on her face until she felt composed again, and dried her skin with a towel. She winked at Alan as she hurried past him down the stairs, down into the store where Edgar looked up before her feet had even touched down, glaring at her.

"Alan said you'd barricaded yourself in you room."

"I did." Missy smiled at him, fluffing her hair with both hands and checking her clothes in the reflective glass of one of the display cases. "But I'm better now."

"Right, are you going out again?"

"Yep." She answered without looking at him, watching the surfers congregate near the door, roughhousing with each other. Alan was watching them too, she noticed, and she figured he must be expecting them to try and make off with something.

"Just don't leave the boardwalk." She glanced back at Edgar, and he was doing his serious face again. "Stay close to people. People and lights are safe, got it?"

"People and lights, got it. I'll be careful. If a stranger in a white van rolls up and offers me candy, I'll just say no." Edgar mumbled something about vampires not driving vans and disappeared into the backroom. Missy watched him go, shaking her head.

"He really doesn't let up, does he?" She asked Alan, who frowned at her. "I was afraid for a minute that he wasn't going to let me leave without a string of garlic around my neck."

"It's Edgar's way of showing you that he likes you." Alan explained. "That he doesn't want you getting eaten. Take it as a compliment."

"Right." Missy snorted. "I bump into Dracula out there and he'll probably throw a parade." She sighed and patted Alan on the arm. "See you later, alright?"

"Be in before one or Edgar will lock you out!" Alan called after her, and she waved back at him, jogging past the surfers and out into the busy night throng.

Missy stretched her arms up over her head and smiled, letting the colorful lights wash over her, taking a moment to smell the salt and the sand, the cotton candy and the corndogs, and something else. Something else, she realized, that smelled better than anything she'd ever inhaled before. More saccharine than the spun sugar, with the same warm, earthy smell of wood burning in a fireplace, and the spicy fragrance of fresh cinnamon and apple cider all mixed into one. It was like the rain hitting asphalt that's been warmed all day by the sun, or falling into a pile of wildflowers and letting the scent take over until all you can do is close your eyes and see an ocean of flowers. It was sudden and alien to her, and she spun in confused circles, trying to figure out which direction the smell had come from.

"Hey, Missay!" She flung her arms out and stumbled, hitting the ground with a pained yelp. Whipping her head back, she glared up at the source of her present misfortune, and groaned. Of all things. Why not the Grim Reaper? Why not Renee and a cadre of armed policemen? Why not the almighty Count D himself? She begged for the plague, for a meteor to drop out of the sky and crush her into the center of the earth. Anything but…him. Him and his stupid smile and stupid hair.

"Why you?" She groaned, lifting her hands and wincing as she used the left to pick pebbles out of the heel of the right. The wiry blonde standing over her just smiled, and held out a hand to help her up. She glared at it and Paul pulled it back to join the other, raising both of his hands at her in supplication.

"Just trying to help."

"Don't need your help." She got to her feet without any of the leggy biker's help, frowning as she took in the state of her skinned knees. "Wonderful. I suppose I'll have to add gravity to my list of enemies now." Paul snickered at her, and reached out to brush something off her shoulder.

"You keep a list?" She shot him a glare, and he quieted.

"Do you set this time aside to make me miserable, or is this just fate's way of telling me I should've stayed in Seattle?" Paul didn't seem to hear anything but the end of her sentence, and he broke into another smile.

"So you're from Seattle, huh?" Missy frowned at him, gesturing to the boardwalk around them.

"Don't you have anything else to do?"

"Not until later." He smirked at her, and she thought it should have been illegal for someone as annoying as him to look so good while smiling. She turned her back to him, stalking in the opposite direction as fast as her sore knees and pride would allow. Persistence, she realized, as the blonde's steps fell into line with hers, was one of Paul's more predominant and far more irritating traits.

"It's not cute, you know." She told him, though his pace never wavered.

"What?" He asked, grinning.

"Stalking me." Missy replied.

"Just keeping you company." Paul told her simply, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"I don't need company." At least, she wasn't sure that it was Paul's company that she wanted. There was still the part of her brain that refused to be silenced, telling her that no matter how stupid and harmless he might have seemed, Paul was trouble. Maybe it was just her Seattle mindset acting up, or her father's warnings about boys like Paul and his friends that was making her nervous.

"Where're we headed?" Paul bumped her elbow with his, and she frowned at him.

"We?" She repeated. "Look, Paul, I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but I don't really understand what you want from me."

Paul's smile was mischievous, and just a little dangerous. "Don't worry so much. Wanna ride the carousel? You like it right?"

Missy stopped walking and gawped at him. "How did you know I like the carousel?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Paul snagged her hand before she could reply, and as he blazed past a couple of schoolchildren to get to the head of the ticket line, Edgar's warning came back to her. Lights and people. Even if Paul was a threat, it wasn't like he was going to pull anything this close to the crowds and lights. She was safe, so she might as well try and enjoy herself. She stared at his hands as he wrapped them around her waist, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a bag of sugar, and depositing her sidesaddle on the back of a black horse with bright white teeth. He stood beside her horse, one hand on her waist, and the other on the pole that was set through the middle of her steed. He was watching the faces of the other riders, but Missy was watching him. It wasn't until about halfway through the ride that she got a whiff of the same strange fragrance she'd smelled in front of the comic shop, and leaned over to see if it was Paul. He turned to look at her the moment she moved, and smirked at something behind her. "Hey, man." Missy turned her head, the force nearly tossing her from her horse, if not for Paul's hand keeping her in place.

It was one of the other three boys that had been outside the video store with Paul the night before. It was the youngest looking one, with the curly hair. Missy thought he had a sweet face, and when his pale eyes focused on hers, he grinned, and Missy tried not to look as nervous as she felt. "Hey again." His hand reached out and wrapped around her horse's pole, and she stiffened. She was boxed in.

"Missy, Marko." Paul gestured at the curly haired boy, who waggled the fingers of his free hand in a wave that Missy wasn't sure was patronizing or not.

"Nice to meet you, Marko." She told him, but Paul and Marko were talking, and neither one of them seemed to be hearing her.

"You eat yet?" Marko was saying, and Paul grinned.

"Nah, thought I'd get something later." Missy wasn't sure, but she was almost certain that Marko's eyes had shot in her direction, if only for a second, at the mention of food. She couldn't imagine why.

"You like Santa Carla so far?" It took her a few seconds to realize that Marko was speaking to her, and she was so stunned when she finally figured it out, that all she could do was stare stupidly until her vocal chords started working again.

"It's different." She told them, but she was looking at something, rather, someone off in the distance as she spoke. "I didn't exactly get a good first impression." Paul and Marko followed her stare, down the line of people waiting to ride the carousel, to a man with a white streak in his black hair, and a blonde woman under his arm.

"Greg?" Paul snorted. "He's a piece of shit."

"I noticed." Missy said, and all of the sudden she didn't feel like riding rides anymore. Paul didn't seem notice her mood swing, but Marko was smiling sweetly at her.

"Wanna do something else?" She nodded, numbly, and it was Marko's hands instead of Paul's on her waist, turning her and helping her slide down from the saddle.

Paul stayed on her right, bobbing his head and tapping a beat out on his thigh that she couldn't hear. Marko was on her left, telling her about the history of the carousel. Apparently it had been built in the nineteen-hundreds. She ducked her head when they passed by Greg and his girlfriend, but her bad luck wasn't going to allow her to escape a second run-in with the man unscathed. "Hey, Dorothy!" He called, and she winced so sharply that Marko and Paul stopped walking to stare at her. "Lookin' good, Dorothy." Greg's eyes traced a line from her ankles, up her bare legs, all the way to her face. She felt the trail he'd left behind like he was a snail instead of just an asshole.

"Get a life." Missy sped away before she could hear what Greg had to say next, and three seconds later, Paul was throwing his arm around her neck and howling with laughter.

"You shouldn't have run off so fast, Miss! You missed Shelly smacking Greg upside the head with some kid's funnel cake!" Missy cracked a small smile, miniscule in comparison to Paul's full-face one.

Marko leaned in a little to whisper in her ear, and Missy shivered. "Guys like that get off on thinking they have power." He told her. "But guys like Greg wouldn't know real power if it bit them on the ass."

"You know about power?" Missy asked, sounding rudely incredulous, even if she didn't mean to. Marko didn't look offended, he just gave her a secretive sort of smile.

"Sure do." He said.

"Yeah!" Paul was grinning from ear to ear again. "Marko's a superhero, couldn't you tell? You're a real badass, aren't you, Marko?" Marko leaned past her and shoved Paul in the chest. One shove led to another, and before Missy could say anything, Marko had Paul in headlock, mussing his choppy blonde hair. She couldn't see what difference it was making.

"Boys, boys, boys. Aren't we being childish?" Three pairs of eyes turned, isolating, at the sound of a new voice, the source.

"David." Marko said, and released Paul's head, but not before messing his hair one more time.

So that was his name. David. He looked exactly the way Missy remembered him. Pale, imposing, with a smile that bordered on malevolent, and a glint in his ice blue eyes that promised cruelty. "Good to see you again, Missy." His voice was almost a whisper, and Missy couldn't help wondering if other people had half as much trouble understanding him when he talked. She supposed his voice was a little bit sexy, but she'd much rather be able to hear what he was saying properly. His eyes made her uneasy, like he was looking through her, no, at something deep inside her that only he could see. He made her feel like she was about to be devoured.

The last boy was as handsome as the rest of them, and Missy couldn't recall hearing him speak once in the two times, now, that they had been around each other. He was watching the crowd around them, his long, dark hair hanging in front of his piercing eyes. Missy noticed at once that for the second night in a row, he wasn't wearing a shirt beneath his jacket. She blushed, and the dark skinned boy's eyes shot to her face at once, and his eyes burned her with a hateful stare. "I have to go." She tore her eyes from the shirtless boy's face, frowning at Marko and Paul. "I'm supposed to be helping my roommates out tonight, I forgot." She could tell by looking at them that they didn't believe her, but she persisted anyway. "Thank you for riding the carousel with me."

"No problem, maybe next time we run into each other it won't be so, you know, literal." Paul winked at her, and she smiled. She heard David cluck his tongue, and she turned her head to frown at him.

"Wish you could stay." He was telling her. "We were just about to get a bite." Something about the way he said it made her skin turn to ice, and she took an unconscious step away from the platinum haired male. "Another time, perhaps. Since you and my boys are such good friends now." His icy eyes flickered, and she knew he was looking past her, at Paul and Marko.

"Goodnight." She smiled at Marko and Paul, and the genuineness of it surprised her, considering only yesterday she'd been calling Paul an asshole.

"Night." Marko called, but she had already run out of earshot.

Missy couldn't help but wonder, as she ran back to the comic store, if all of her dealings with the David and his strange boys would end with her running away from them like the devil himself was on her heels.

Edgar and Alan's glares seemed a little less angry than usual when she ran in, smiling, but out of breath. She gasped some sort of excuse about being tired at them and didn't stop until she had shut her bedroom door behind her. She flopped facedown on her bed, toeing one sneaker off, then the other, and sighing. Was anything about her new life going to be normal? She was living with a couple of teenagers who thought they were vampire hunters, and the only guys who hadn't tried to turn her into a missing person were weirder than the ones who had. David, Paul, Marko, and the silent one whose name she had yet to learn. Something about them was off, she was sure, even if she couldn't put her finger on it.

Who knows, maybe the Frog brothers were right about their insane theories. Maybe Santa Carla was crawling with the undead, and David and his boys were on the liquid diet. She laughed aloud at the idea, sitting up just enough to untuck her blankets, slip off her shorts, and crawl beneath them.

Sure, David and Paul and Marko were vampires, and she was the Wolfman.

She felt stupid even thinking it, and somehow the fact that their paranoia had even affected her slightly made her want to go downstairs and beat the living daylight out of the Frog brothers.

She'd sleep first, of course. She could deal with vampires, vampire hunters, and whatever else the world wanted to throw at her in the morning. She laid her head down on her pillow, felt the stake that Alan had stashed beneath it, and frowned.

Her dreams were filled with spinning horses and beautiful boys with demonic faces. Marko and Paul chased her around the carousel, and as loud as she screamed, no one but the two of them seemed to hear her. The lights blinked and flickered around her, threatening to go out, and the music sounded like a funeral march to her ears. Her funeral march. She tripped, as people so often did in times of great fright, sliding on the spinning floor until her body connected with something hard as stone. Trembling, she raised her eyes in terror to David's grinning face. "Wish you could stay." He laughed then, and her eyes were drawn to his teeth, unnatural, sharper than a human being's should have been, and her mind was filled with one, single, terrifying realization. Vampire.

She flew up in her bed, gasping and clawing at her throat. There was nothing on her neck but her locket's chain, and as she gazed around at her room, pitch black in the late hours, she felt insanely stupid. "Ugh!" She reached under her pillow and retrieved the stake, chucking it across the dark room. She heard it smack into the wall opposite with a satisfying clonk and she laid back down, staring up at her bedroom ceiling as she tried to still the beating of her terror-stricken heart, trying to assure the erratic organ that it had all been a dream.

"Stupid nightmare." She whispered, turning over and closing her eyes again, determined not to let her sleep be disturbed again by thoughts of nonexistent demons. "Stupid Frog brothers." She fought to regain control of her sleep, but try as she might to keep her mind from wandering to unpleasant things, her brain kept echoing a single phrase. Four words that the dream David and waking David had in common. She recalled the words, and shuddered.

_"Wish you could stay."_

**Thank you for reading.**


	7. Round and Round

**Chapter Seven, how long is too long?**

_"Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can."  
_  
Chapter Seven

Morning couldn't come soon enough for Missy, it never could when one's sleep was punctuated by dreams of vampires followed up by the Frog brothers swooping in like badly dressed superheroes to save the day from the bloodsuckers. She thought she would say something to them about how their little obsession was affecting her sleep when she finally got around to going downstairs, but first, she realized, she would have to address the shouting that was coming from across the room, jostling her right out of slumberland and back into the loud, bright world of the waking. Missy sat up, and whined softly because it was the last thing in that moment that she wanted to do. Sitting up, she glared at the boys standing in her doorway and called out to them. "What are you two bickering about? And do you have to do it in my doorway when there are plenty of other, perfectly adequate ones for you to argue in front of?" Edgar and Alan glanced at her, then turned their backs to her and continued in softer, more urgent voices. "Excuse me?" Missy cried, and their eyes shot in her direction again. "What's the matter with you two?" Not that there wasn't always something the matter with the Frog brothers, she thought, just that it was too early in the morning for her to be dealing with it already.

Edgar glared at her for a couple of excruciatingly long seconds, and while Missy could see the war of indecision going on behind his eyes, she couldn't tell who was winning. "School." He said at last, and it was so much the last thing she was expecting, that she laughed.

"You're serious? You're arguing about school? What for?" It never occurred to her, as she was asking, that as much as living on the boardwalk made things seem like an endless vacation, the school year wouldn't be over for another three months. It wasn't like she had attended school regularly in the other life, anyway.

"It's Monday." Alan told her, and Missy's face was colored by surprise. Had it been two days since she had left Seattle already? She had forgotten all about her old teachers and old school, and for a moment, she wondered what her classmates would be saying about her. No doubt they had by now seen Renee's charming television interview, and the gossip would be worse than the truth. "We have to go to school today and I was telling Edgar that it would probably be better to close the store today."

"And I," Edgar interjected, frowning. "was telling Alan that it would be stupid to lose a day's business just because he doesn't think you're capable of running the shop alone."

Missy's face was incredulous, and she frowned at Edgar. "And you think I'm capable?"

"Of course I don't." Edgar grunted. "But you're going to have to learn eventually." Missy didn't want to tell Edgar that he was right, partly because knowing how smug it would make him made her want to prove him wrong out of spite; but mostly because she wasn't sure that she wanted or could handle the responsibility of running the store alone.

"I'll manage." She said at last, and they stared at her, faces stunned. "Just show me how to work the cash register." Edgar and Alan were silent for a long time, and Missy could see in their faces that they didn't trust her half as far as she could throw the both of them. She wasn't sure she trusted herself any more than they did. With her luck she'd end up giving someone the wrong change or selling one of the brothers' "Rare, don't touch. Don't breathe on it." comics for a dollar and they'd skin her alive.

"We've always closed the store when we had school before, it doesn't make any sense to change the way we do things now." Edgar glared at his brother, and before Missy's eyes, they slipped back into their argument like she wasn't there and they weren't standing in her bedroom.

"We closed the store because we never had someone to keep it open while we were at school." Missy sighed, propping her head up with her hand and waiting for the two of them to include her again.

"Then let's just close it for a couple of days, and we can teach her how to work the register. If we just throw her out there on her own and expect her to swim she's going to drown." The analogy made her wince, and Missy cleared her throat loudly.

"Guys, listen," She tried.

"It isn't that hard. An idiot could do it." Edgar said.

"I still think we should wait a few days." Alan said.

"Hello?" It was like she hadn't spoken at all, and neither of them even glanced at her.

"So what?" Edgar continued, getting louder by the second. "I'm supposed to just let her sit around because you've got a crush on her?"

"I don't! I just don't think it'd end well if we-"

Missy reached behind her and grabbed her pillow. She pulled it around her body and in one smooth motion, threw it at her door. It bounced off Edgar's face, and he whipped around to glare at her. "Enough! Ugh!" She slid off her bed, and she glared at them so hotly she felt like her anger should have physically burned them. "You're acting like children, both of you. Look, close the store, don't close the store, but don't squabble." She turned her head at Alan and frowned. "Edgar's right." She told him. "If I go down there and try to run the store, I'll probably mess up. I can almost guarantee it. But that's no reason not to try, and there's really no sense in losing business when I'm not doing anything but sitting on my tail all day. " She glanced at Edgar, and because he had his smug face on, she pointed a finger at him and glared. "That doesn't mean he's wrong, Edgar. Just remember when I screw up, that you were the one who advocated my going down there in the first place." She gestured for them to move out from in front of her door, and they did, and she left her room and went down the hall to the bathroom; wondering, as she went, if there would ever be a morning that she lived with the Frogs where she woke up normally. Stupid Frog brothers.

Edgar and Alan followed her, and they stood outside the bathroom and watched her put toothpaste on her brush, and turn the faucet on. "I can show you how to use the register." Alan told her, and she glanced up at him in the mirror with her mouth full of toothpaste, and smiled around her toothbrush. She washed her face next, and when she was finished, the rumbling of her stomach bade her into the Frog parents' bedroom, into the little sort of kitchen.

Naturally, Edgar and Alan were watching her as she rooted through the cabinets, and she shook a box at them, smiling. "Oatmeal?"

"Huh?" Edgar asked, and she turned the box so he could see the logo.

"Breakfast." Missy explained. "Most important meal of the day? Comes before lunch and dinner?" This was going to be one of many battles over meals that Missy saw herself having with Edgar and Alan in the future, she was certain.

"No time." Edgar said. "We have to leave in," he lifted his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist. "twenty minutes."

"That's plenty enough time to make breakfast!" Missy frowned. "How about eggs? I think I could do eggs in the microwave. We'll need to get a toaster eventually, eggs aren't really eggs without toast."

"It's fine." Alan told her. "We wouldn't have time to eat anything anyway. We still have to open the store up and show you how to work the register."

"Well, hold on." Missy pried the fridge open and took two pieces of fruit out of the bowl she'd stashed in there, handing one to either of the brothers. "Pears." She smiled, and it was only a little sheepish. "They're my favorite. They're good for you, and they only take a couple of minutes to eat." Edgar opened his mouth like he was going to argue, and she held up a hand to stop him. "Edgar, right now, I only want to see that mouth of yours moving if you're chewing." Edgar glared at her for a couple of seconds, and then took a giant, loud bite out of the fruit. She beamed, and although he rolled his eyes, he took another bite.

As it turned out, working the cash register was a lot more involved than Missy had thought, and as much as Alan was trying to be patient with her, she could see that having to stop and bring her attention back away from watching Edgar roll the racks out was making him frustrated. "When you're finished ringing up their purchase, press this button, and it'll tell you how much they owe you. If they give you exact change, press this button, and the drawer will open and you can put the money in." Missy nodded, and tried not to watch the people, already up and about at this ungodly hour, walking past the door. "If they don't give you exact change, just punch in how much money they did give you, and then press this button to find out how much change you need to give them." Missy wasn't feeling very confident, but Edgar and Alan were trusting her with their livelihood, so she would do her best for their sake. "Do you think you can do it?"

No, Missy wanted to say, but she didn't. She smiled at Alan instead, and shrugged. "If Edgar can do it, it can't be that hard." The older Frog hid a grin, somewhat unsuccessfully, and Edgar glared at her from across the store.

"We have to go soon, go get changed." Missy looked down and realized that Edgar wasn't just being Edgar, she was still in her pajamas.

"You couldn't have told me that before?" She grumbled, but she hurried back up the stairs to her room. She tugged on a pair of jeans under her sleep shirt, buttoning them and pulling her nightshirt up over her head and dropping it on the floor. She made another note in her head as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of a thinly knit, aubergine colored cardigan and buttoned it up the front, to go shopping for some more climate appropriate clothing. She rolled up her sleeves and tied her sneakers onto her feet.

"Hurry up!" Edgar's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, and she rolled her eyes and grabbed a scrunchie out of her toiletries bag.

"Keep your shirt on!" She shouted back, holding her hair up with one hand and twisting the band around her ponytail with the other as she walked. Edgar and Alan were waiting in front of the store with their bikes when she got down the stairs, and she took a deep breath to get her courage back when the truth of what she was doing hit her again.

"You can do this, right?" Edgar asked her, and for a moment, Missy thought he looked sincere. She just smiled, waving them off.

"Go on, before you're late. Try and have a good day, learn lots." She told them, and it was a couple of seconds before either of them moved.

"We'll be back around three thirty. Good luck." Edgar said, and then they were gone, peddling out of sight, and Missy was watching them go, wondering what she had been thinking when she told them not to close the store. Idiot.

It is a difficult thing to accurately describe an experience that one has not had the opportunity to take of. A person who has never worked a day in their life would find it hard to sympathize with someone who has, just as one who has never been beaten about the head by something heavy cannot understand the sensation thoroughly until he has been bludgeoned repeatedly, until at last he wipes the blood from his brow and says: "Oh, I see what you mean." Missy had never had to work for any reason before, though after dealing with the sort of patrons that the comic store catered to, she figured that it must be remarkably similar to having someone hit you over the head with a brick for several hours. Granted, the only time she'd ever been hit by anything, it had been a phone and not a brick. The mark it had left behind, the physical one, at least, was already lightening on her jaw, and before long, she knew, it would be gone with no more permanence than the pain that working retail caused her now. "Have a nice day." She thought she must sound like a robot. A robot trained to smile and accept money and thank people for their patronage.

The first time that she hit the wrong button on the register, and it beeped angrily at her, she'd panicked. She'd had to press the button that Alan had showed her to open the drawer and figure out the math in her head. She fumbled with the money, and dropped a handful of coins on the floor. She had whimpered then, and apologized to the customer as she scooped up the fallen change. She thought that if she had gone to a store, and the cashier was as inexperienced as she was, she would have been more understanding. Her customer wasn't, and he snapped at her to hurry up, and snatched the change out of her hand when she held it out to him. She thanked him quietly for his patronage, told him to have a nice day, and waited until he was gone before she broke down. She sat down on the floor behind the counter, leaning against the wall and trying to tell herself that she was too old to be getting upset because one stranger had been short with her.

Then she was angry, because it was only a comic, and she didn't know what the man had gotten so upset for. Then she realized, as she stared up at the cash register on the counter, that standing up when all you want to do is stay down, is a hard thing to do. She was fighting that particular battle within her then, and she thought about the difference between someone who gets up when they've been knocked down, and someone who, when they're on their back, instead of getting back on their feet, rolls over. She wasn't the rolling over type. If she was, she wouldn't have smashed a vase over her stepmother's head and gotten on the bus in the first place. People underestimate their personal strength so frequently that it always comes as a surprise when you find the courage to do something you never thought you could, like stand up instead of rolling over.

That said, all Missy really wanted was to get up off the floor and slink back to her bed, and maybe read Wilde until her eyes stung. But she wouldn't go upstairs, no, she wouldn't.

She reached up and planted her hands on the edge of the counter, sighed, and pulled herself back up. She smiled at the next customer like the one before him had never come in, and when she dropped his change, she was careful to make sure it was in his hand instead of on the floor.

When Edgar and Alan rolled up on their bikes in front of the store, she smiled at once, and found it hard to finish with the customer she was with instead of running over there and, well, she wasn't sure what she would do when she got there. She was torn between hugging them for coming back, and thrashing them within an inch of their lives for leaving her alone. "How did you do?" Alan asked her, after he and Edgar had locked their bikes up, and all Missy could do was looked at her like she was crazy, and as she laughed harder, she thought, just maybe, she might be. Just a little. She came out from behind the register, walked over to the stairs, and stopped at their base, sitting down. "I don't think I'm cut out for the comic business, fellas." She said, setting her elbows on her knees and holding her head up in her hands.

Edgar opened the register drawer, and Missy thought he looked concerned, almost panicked, as he counted the money. There must have been more in there than he expected to find after leaving Missy alone with it for so long, because his eyes got wide and then his face was stony again. "Well, you didn't bankrupt us. I'm happy."

"Really." Missy said, absently. "You look tickled."

"Did you have any problems with the register?" Alan asked her, and although answering him meant that she had to think about her almost breakdown again, she did it anyway.

"Some." She told him candidly. "I kept forgetting which buttons were which, but I think I did alright."

Missy was careful about what she told them, she didn't want to encourage them to leave her in charge of the store again. "How was school?"

"SSDD." Edgar said from behind the register, and Missy tilted her head to look at him, her brow puckered.

"What was that again?" She asked, and Alan sort of grinned, though she thought it looked a bit like he was snarling.

"Same shit, different day. Story of our lives." He explained, and Missy smiled. She liked that. It was a simple way of explaining something, that if you tried to do it properly, would cause you to go mad long before you ever got through with it.

"Learn anything interesting?" She asked, and Edgar snorted.

"What the inside of a frog looks like, and what school cafeteria pizza looks like partially digested." Missy thought about what he'd said, and realized that when she thought about a Frog dissecting a frog, it seemed sort of comical to her.

"That's um, that's pretty gross." Was what she said, and Edgar's smile almost existed, for a fraction of a second, and Missy was beginning to understand how difficult it was to make that happen.

Time flies when you're having fun, so is that to say that it walks when you're bored? Or crawls when you're excruciatingly bored? Either way, it passes, and Missy couldn't have said which she would have preferred if someone had asked her. On the one hand, as she sat on the base of the stairs, watching the sky get dimmer, she tried to think of ways to cajole the sun into going down faster. On the other hand, as she laughed with Edgar and Alan -well, she laughed, they just sort of watched her do it- she thought that time couldn't pass slowly enough for her to enjoy it. She wasn't sure why she wanted to get out on the boardwalk so desperately. It could have been because she wasn't jaded, and everything, all the loudness and brightness and stickiness that the boardwalk had to offer her was precious and new to her. It could have been because she was tired of looking at comics and listening to Edgar quiz her on vampire lore.

Whatever the reason, it wasn't David and his cruel eyes, or Marko and his sweet smile, it certainly wasn't Paul, who shook up her world and reminded her so much of Eden, and well…it might've been the dark haired one. She blamed her silly fluttering girl heart, and maybe it was his bare chest to blame, or the way that he could look at her and burn her with his eyes, and make her feel without him ever saying anything, that he absolutely hated her. She didn't even know his name. She wanted to hear him speak. She imagined that he could say more in a few words than she could say with a lifetime. She had the feeling that Paul said whatever was passing in his mind, closest to his mouth at the time, but she knew that sometimes, more could be said with silence.

The sun set, and with it took some of its warmth, and suddenly Missy's cardigan wasn't so stifling, and letting her hair down seemed like a good idea. She wandered by the carousel and watched it spin, and gradually, she made her way down to the beach, past a couple of bonfires, to where the sand was dark and cold, and the boardwalk was far enough from her that the sounds and lights were but a dullness in the corner of her mind. And as she sat, gazing out at the silver moon on the sea, she remembered what Edgar had said to her her second night in Santa Carla. _"People and lights." _She thought about it, and she glanced over at her shoulder, realizing how far she had walked. She could still see the boardwalk, but the bonfires in the distance burned no larger than a candle's flame from where she was sitting. In that moment, watching the fire flicker in the distance, and the moon in the sky and the one in the water, Missy couldn't have been bothered to go back to the boardwalk if the Count himself had flown down and landed beside her.

She leaned back until she fell, and her back hit the sand, and while she was certain that she would be shaking it out of her hair the rest of the night, the sand was so cool through her sweater that she didn't care. She counted the stars, and every time she got to ten, she started over. She thought she could lie on the beach forever, until the tide came in and swept her away. There was something serene about lying on the beach at night, you could hear people and rides in the distance, but all you were really listening to was the whispering sound that the water made as it reached out to you, and drew back into itself, disheartened, when you didn't reach back.

"Hey, you sleeping?" She rolled her head and the right side of her face pressed into the soft, cold sand. There was a boy standing on the sand beside her, and she was sure that she didn't recognize him.

"No, just lying here." He couldn't have been older than ten or eleven, and his face was dirty, like the faces of young children often were, and he was watching her. "What's your name?" She asked him, and he sat down by her head, drawing something in the sand beside his feet.

"Laddie. You're Missy, right?" He said, and Missy was so stunned, that if she had been more inside her head, she might have used the time to worry that her mouth was open.

"How do you know my name?" Laddie looked guilty, then, and he wiped away his drawing quickly.

"Don't be mad." He said, so pitifully that Missy's frown wavered. "Dwayne told me, and when I saw you down here I thought maybe you'd hit your head or something. Paul said you fall a lot." Missy rolled her eyes hard, and smiled. She was sure Paul neglected to mention that he was usually the cause of her klutziness, but that wasn't the part of Laddie's sentence she was focused on.

"Dwayne? That's the dark haired one?" She asked, and Laddie nodded, and Missy could see that he was smiling a little through his hair. "Is he your brother?" She asked, and Laddie shook his head.

"Dwayne takes care of me." He said. "But he's not my brother."

"Are you here by yourself?" Missy went on to ask, already frowning, because the thought of a little boy running around on the boardwalk by himself terrified her.

"No." Laddie turned then, and pointed behind her, at a dark blur a ways down the beach from them. "Dwayne's here." Missy followed his finger, and for a brief moment, she imagined that she could feel Dwayne looking at her, so many feet away. "He was the one who told me you were down here, and he said it was okay if I wanted to meet you, because David said it was okay."

"Really." Missy wondered how he had known she was on the beach in the first place, and worried about what Dwayne had told Laddie. David was a charismatic person, even she could see that, and it was obviously that characteristic that pulled others to him, and allowed him to exude the subtle control over the others that he did.

"Marko said you were nice." Laddie added, and Missy turned her head to smile at him again.

"That was nice of him, considering we don't really know each other that well." Missy sat up, running her fingers through her hair and picking grains of sand out. "I only really met him last night." Laddie was moving his finger around in the sand again, and Missy leaned over his shoulder to look. "What are you drawing?"

"Bird." Laddie said, and traced a wing curve with his index finger.

"Do you like birds?" Missy asked, and Laddie pulled a face, and she laughed.

"Not really. Marko likes birds, he has some, and sometimes I wake up and they're sleeping on me." He smiled and smoothed the sand flat with his hand. His expression turned intense, and he started to draw again. He drew a building, and beside it, a long line that she thought looked almost like a bridge, especially when he began to create water lines beneath it. At the end of the line he drew a stick figure, and over the entire thing, lines, diagonally, as though it were raining in the sandy world he had drawn.

"What's that?" Missy asked him, and he shrugged.

"I don't know." Laddie said. "Something I saw in my head."

"Like a dream?" Missy asked, and he shrugged.

"Kind of, but I'm awake when it happens." He explained.

"Oh, well that's called a daydream, I think." Missy told him, and he snuck a shy smile at her.

"Laddie." A deep voice said, from somewhere behind her left shoulder, and it was so sudden that Missy cried out, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Laddie's face lit up, and he laughed so hard that his face turned red. Missy lowered her head, glancing backwards through her hair at Dwayne, frowning. Away from the boardwalk, he looked entirely made up of the darkness that surrounded him, hair, eyes, skin. He was made of the stuff, and he was staring at her, his eyes boring tiny holes in her like the ones caterpillars left behind on leaves.

"Hey!" Laddie managed at last, his laughter gone, though the smile remained. Missy was glad that her social ineptness was so humorous, at least to people who weren't her. She thought the whole world must be conspiring against her to make her look stupid, or at the very least these four, strange boys were. "I want to go on the rides, can we?" He was staring up at the dark eyed, older boy, hope so blatant on his face, and he turned that same, pitifully yearning look on Missy. "Star doesn't like to go on the rides, she says they make her sick. You like rides, right, Missy? I'll let you pick one, too, I swear."

"He's lying." Dwayne said, so quietly that Missy doubted for a second that he had spoken at all, and when she looked at him, the look in his eyes was roguish. "He won't let you pick."

Missy smiled, and she felt like it must have looked ridiculous, how wide it was. "That's alright, I like most rides." She stood, brushing sand off the back of her jeans.

"Can we, Dwayne?" Laddie fixed Dwayne with a look that was so outrageously desperate that Missy laughed, and Dwayne smiled at the little boy.

"Okay." Laddie grinned big, and was on his feet, reaching out and snagging Missy's left hand before she knew that he had moved. A look of alarm passed briefly on Dwayne's face, and Missy laughed because she thought that he was upset that Laddie had grabbed her without asking. His concern vanished at her smile, and Laddie smiled up at Missy.

"Come on!" He tugged on her arm, and his little legs moved so quickly that Missy had to take great steps to keep up with him. Sand flew up around their feet, and when they reached the boardwalk at last, Missy stumbled into the railing, panting against it. Laddie didn't seem to be having any trouble, and she shook her head at him. She cursed children and their endless founts of energy. "Come on!" Laddie took up her hand again, and she had only time to look back at Dwayne and curse her strange luck before they were going again, and Missy couldn't help wondering to herself as she was dragged; didn't anyone in Santa Carla ever walk anywhere?

**Thank you for reading.**


	8. Into the Valley of the Shadow of Death

_"Taking one's chances is like taking a bath, because sometimes you end up feeling comfortable and warm, and sometimes there is something terrible lurking around that you cannot see until it is too late and you can do nothing else but scream and cling to a plastic duck."_

Chapter Eight

As it turned out, Laddie was just tall enough to ride the rollercoaster, something she would not have expected from someone of his stature. Dwayne wasn't interested in riding with them, and he told them he would wait for them at the exit, and disappeared. Laddie was a bubbling cauldron of excitement, threatening to boil over at any second and scald her. One would not have thought that he lived in Santa Carla at all, he acted more like a tourist than Missy did. He led her to the last car on the coaster, grinning in such an exaggerated way that it reminded her of Paul as he plopped himself down on the seat. "The last car whips the hardest." He told her as she slid into the car beside him. "The turns are really great and it feels like you're going faster back here."

"Really." Missy smiled, because his enthusiasm was catching. "I didn't know that. I guess we picked the right car then." She winked at him, and he bounced a little in his seat.

Missy had ridden roller coasters before, and she had always loved the thrill of sliding around in the seat, when all the safety bar did was prevent you from flying upward, and bumping into the person she was sharing the ride with. The coaster ticked upward, tilting them back and Missy could feel the anticipation thrumming in the boy beside her. When they reached the top, she knew that she would only have seconds to look around her before they plummeted, so she spent it wisely. She could see all of the boardwalk, people so far down that they looked like blurs and nothing more, and the ocean, stretching vast and black as far as she could see. Then the coaster tipped forward, and they were rushing downward at such a high velocity that Missy's hair whipped back, and she crowed loudly and happily. Like all good things, and rollercoaster rides in particular, it ended long before either she or Laddie had truly had enough, and they stumbled out of their car at the end, laughing and running into each other, their hair a wild mess like something large had nested there.

Dwayne was where he had said he would be, and Missy found that she wasn't surprised in the least. Though when she reached up and felt how wild her hair had become, she was overcome with the sudden need to fix it, and she was certain that it was because Dwayne was staring at it.

"What do you want to ride next?" Laddie was asking her, his hand in hers, swinging their arms wildly as they walked. Missy stopped fussing with her hair and smiled down at him.

"Everything." She replied, and it must have been the right one, because Laddie's face lit up like the fourth of July and he dragged her off again.

They rode all the rides that twisted, all the ones that spun, and they even went through the haunted house once, so Missy could laugh at the sad looking props, and Dwayne and Laddie could laugh at Missy for still screaming when something jumped out at her.

They rode the Ferris wheel twice, because Missy liked the view so much. Dwayne even rode with them, and Laddie twisted back and forth between them, pointing out different things for Missy to look at. "It's the carousel!" Laddie's hand shot out, and Missy's face was exultant. She could see the spinning circle of lights, and she could have sworn that she could hear the music too, even if it was impossible, and she never saw Dwayne or Laddie watching her.

They couldn't have kept Missy from riding the merry-go-round next if they had physically bound her, well, maybe then, but that would have been the only way to stop her. She couldn't explain her fascination, even if she had tried. She found the carousel magical, ethereal, and all sorts of other things she had trouble putting into words; and although it must have seemed silly to them, she received a childish sort of wonderment during its musical rotation.

She helped Laddie up onto his horse first, and made sure that he had the reigns in his hands before moving to the horse in front of his. Dwayne was there, and he held out his hands to her. She shook her head at him, but let him lift her by the waist and plant her sideways on the saddle. "You too, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Dwayne asked her, and Missy noticed that he had taken up the spot between her and Laddie's horses, one hand wrapped around the chaperone's pole set between the two.

"After Paul and Marko, you're the third person to help me up that way. You're all either very chivalrous, or just trying to find an excuse to get your hands on someone. With Paul, I'm pretty certain it's the latter." She said, and the faintest edge of a smile tugged at the corner of Dwayne's lips. "I'm not too sure about you or Marko yet." And something about the look on Dwayne's face told her that he wasn't going to be enlightening her anytime soon. The lights swirled around them, though they weren't going that fast at all, and Missy enjoyed the dizzy sort of feeling that they carousel gave her.

The ride never lasted as long as she wanted it to, and when it stopped, she hopped down off the platform, swinging Laddie down beside her. "How are you feeling about some cotton candy? Maybe a funnel cake?" She was in the mood to be a little bad when it came to food, and judging by Laddie's grin, so was he.

"Funnel cake!" He cried, and Missy laughed.

"Funnel cake it is." She turned her head and flashed a smile at their silent companion. "Dwayne, are you feeling funnel cake?" She asked, and he sort of smiled.

"Sure." He told her, and satisfied that that was as good of a yes as she was going to get from Dwayne, she let Laddie take up her hand again and lead her toward what she had come to fondly know as the food row.

"Laddie!" A soft, feminine voice called, and Laddie's head shot in its direction.

"Star!" He called back, and let go of Missy to run to the girl who had called for him. Missy watched the girl wrap her arms around Laddie, and frowned. She thought that she was very beautiful, and it didn't even bother her in the least that her hair reminded her a little of a poodle, just that she thought she looked sad. The girl, or Star, as Missy assumed she was called, looked up and their eyes met for a long, painful second. Painful for Missy, because looking into Star's eyes was sort of like having someone pinch you when you weren't looking. Startling, because you never could figure out which direction the pain came from, just that it came suddenly, and left you sore when it was gone. Missy felt sore when Star finally looked away from her, just not her arm or her side, no, she felt like her heart ached, just a little.

"Where've you been?" Star was saying, and Missy realized that her voice was even softer up close. "I looked for you."

"Dwayne and me found Missy down on the beach and David and Dwayne said it was okay so I talked to her and then we rode some rides!" Laddie was speaking in that gasping, breathless way that children did when they were excited, and Star was smiling, almost. "Missy really likes rides, Star, especially the merry-go-round, and she doesn't get sick or nothing, even on the really fast ones!" Star's eyes flickered to her again, and Missy felt her face get hot. Attention was never a good thing, not when you were apt to fall on your face at any moment.

"That's nice."

"We're gonna get funnel cake!" Laddie exclaimed, and Missy sort of smiled, even if she was uncomfortable, because children had a way of making things less awkward.

"We can't now, Laddie." Star said, and Laddie's face fell. "David said we have to go home." She said, though it just sounded to Missy like she didn't want to go get funnel cake. She got the impression that Star didn't want to be around her.

"Do we have to?" Laddie whined, and Star gave him a sharp look.

"You know we do, Laddie, now say goodbye." Laddie shuffled over to Missy, dragging his feet and looking like he'd just been told he had to go to bed without dessert, which, Missy supposed he had.

"Night, Missy, thanks for going on the rides with me." He said.

"You're very welcome." Missy said in return. "It was fun, maybe we can do it again soon. And we'll get that funnel cake too, okay? I promise." Laddie gave her a shy smile again, and hurried back to cling to Star's long, tiered skirt. The brown eyed girl gazed at her for a long time before she spoke, and her soft voice was sharp.

"It was nice meeting you." She said, thought it certainly didn't sound like it. It sounded like she'd just told Missy off for stepping on her toes, which, she noticed, were bare. The curly haired girl turned and she and the boy with her were swallowed up by the crowd in front of Missy's eyes. She could feel Dwayne behind her still, and she sighed.

"That was sort of a bad way to go out." She mumbled, and she swore she could feel Dwayne shrug.

"That's Star." He said, and it didn't sound like he liked it.

Missy turned to face him, and thought that it was a very bitter truth of life, that bedtime always came just when things were getting good. "I guess that's my cue." She said, and Dwayne nodded. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." He echoed.

Missy hadn't had the chance to look at her watch at any time during the night, Laddie hadn't let her stand still for a second, and so she couldn't begin to examine her surprise when she found herself in front of the closed, locked doors of the comic store. "This has got to be a joke." She murmured, pulling on the handle in a minute of intense horror. "A sick, horrible, evil joke." She glanced up at the apartment above the shop and frowned. "Edgar!" She shouted, so shrilly that passersby gave her looks. "Alan! This isn't funny!" She was beginning to panic. What was she supposed to do if they wouldn't open up? Were they up there, listening to her beat on the doors, and leaving them shut to teach her a lesson? So she had lost track of the time, big deal! That didn't mean she deserved to sleep on a bench! "Edgar! I swear to God if you don't get down here and open this door right now, so help me, I'm going to find and a vampire and feed you to him!" Her cries went unanswered, and all she really did was establish with the neighboring stores, and a bunch of people who just happened to be in the area, that she was one hundred percent, completely and absolutely out of her mind.

She was going to murder Edgar, and Alan for letting him lock her out.

She shouted and kicked the door for another fifteen minutes and all she did was make her voice hoarse, and her foot sore. It didn't change anything, she was still locked out. Now she was just locked out and had a sore foot.

"Hey, Miss, you okay?" She thought about turning around and telling the person that of course she wasn't, because she wouldn't have been fighting with a door if she had been, but what she did instead was groan and cover her face with her hands. "Miss? Missy?" Hold on. She parted her fingers, peeking between them and thought that fate was either looking out for her, or conspiring against her, and she just didn't know it. "What's the matter?" Marko asked her, and his face was so covered with concern that her stomach flipped nervously in response. "We heard you screaming from across the boardwalk, Laddie was afraid something was trying to eat you. He wouldn't let up until one of us agreed to come check things out. You realize he's completely in love with you now?" He told her with a smile. "Ride a rollercoaster with that kid and he's yours forever." He shook his head and frowned thoughtfully at her. "So what's up?"

"My roommates locked me out." Missy told him, turning and giving the door a good, solid kick. "Be in by one, they said, or we'll lock you out. Why didn't I listen?" She hit the door again, nearly growling in her frustration. "I could kill them, really, but it's my fault for not keeping track of the time. I don't know what I'm going to do, they're probably up there now, ignoring me."

"Come on." Marko told her, and she swore that she saw him roll his eyes. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her after him, and she wasn't surprised to find that he was a thousand times more gentle than Laddie had been.

"Where are we going?" She asked him, and he didn't stop walking or glance back.

"To talk to David." He said, and Missy paled. She thought she would much have preferred to sleep on a bench.

Marko didn't leave enough room for her to have a say in the matter, and she was embarrassed when only two out of the five waiting by the bikes were surprised to see Marko dragging her. "Missy!" Laddie cried, and Star's eyes went wide.

"Well," David said, slowly, looking her over, head to toe. "two arms, two legs." He said. "One head. Whatever was making you scream like that left you remarkably intact. What's going on, Marko?" Marko let go of her arm, and Missy tried to shrink herself down as small as she could, hiding behind the curly haired boy's back where David couldn't see her.

It was a shame that David seemed to have x-ray vision.

"She lives with those two kids who run the comic shop, and they locked her out." David was silent for a while, staring at Marko and glancing over his shoulder occasionally at the girl who was trying unsuccessfully to turn herself invisible.

"Hmm." David said at long last, and Missy thought it sounded very much like he was preparing himself to deliver a death sentence. "Missy?" Her head shot up at her name, and her wavering, stormy blue eyes tried to focus on his clear, icy ones.

"Yes?" She asked, and cursed her voice for its trembling.

"I leave it to you. You can come with us, if you'd like, or you can sleep on a bench instead." The way he said it, it was like choosing between a kiss on the cheek or a slap upside the head. There was no choice at all, but Missy dragged it out like she had to think, and when she answered him, her voice was quiet.

"Thank you." She wasn't sure how she felt about staying in a house with a bunch of boys she'd only just met, but wasn't that what she was doing with the Frogs, too? And they had been the ones to look her out in the first place, besides, David and his had to be safer than sleeping on a bench. Life was all about taking chances, she realized, she just hadn't gotten around to actually taking many yet.

Now was her chance to correct that.

Marko led her over to his bike, and showed her where to put her feet, and she thought that Star was very brave putting her bare feet that close to a spinning wheel, when it made her uncomfortable and she was wearing sneakers. Missy had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and as she put her thin arms around Marko's middle, she hid her face in his back, and tried not to think about how red her face must have been. "Hold on." He told her, and she locked her fingers, bracing herself. He kicked something on the bike's side, and the engine roared to life. The bike jerked into movement so suddenly that Missy whipped her head around to see if she'd left any part of herself behind. It felt like her heart had been yanked right out through her back.

The boys tore through the boardwalk, scattering people and hooting and calling wildly as they egged each other on. Missy lifted her face from Marko's back, and the wind whipped her hair back, hitting her face hard, and she felt like she was back on the rollercoaster.

A smile slid into place on her lips, and she scooted forward to speak into Marko's ear over the roar of the wind and the bike. "Faster!" She cried, and Marko turned his head just a little so she could see his smile.

"Hang on." He gunned the engine, and they cut in front of Paul, who cried out in playful outrage, and passed Dwayne and Laddie, the latter grinning big at her and shouting something that she couldn't decipher over the rush of the wind.

Gradually they left behind the lights and sounds of the boardwalk, replacing them with rocks and cliffs instead. She saw the lighthouse light before she realized what it was, and as the bikes rolled to a stop on the bluff, her mind panicked for a brief moment, that they were planning on dropping her off the cliff. "Come on." Marko was standing beside the bike, and she reached out to take his hand and let him pull her up beside him. He held her hand and led her down a set of stairs that she wouldn't have crossed on a normal day if someone had dared her to do it.

Again she found herself asking, was anything about her new life going to be normal?

"Watch your step." Marko told her, and she thought how ironic it sounded for him to say that with a danger sign right behind his head. She let him help her, nonetheless, down a set of jagged stone that might have been steps, until she found herself standing inside a remarkably furnished cave.

"Wow." She said, and that must have been the cue that David was waiting for, because he launched into a curious retelling of the cave's history. It wasn't a cave at all, as it turned out, but the sunken remains of a once fabulous hotel. "And you all, live here?" She asked, running her hand over the dusty edge of the ruined fountain, poking the strange mobiles that hung near it.

"Sure do." Paul grinned at her, bumping her shoulder with his as he brushed past her to climb up on the fountain's rim.

"I've never heard of anyone who lived in a cave before." Missy said quietly. "Except for bears and cavemen, I suppose. But this seems much nicer."

"Glad you think so." David's voice washed over her, and she shivered. "Since you are our guest, after all."

"Here," Star came up on her left, taking her hand and smiling a little at her. "You can sleep in my bed, I'll show you." She led her to a large crevasse in the wall that had be partitioned off with a set of shimmering, gossamer curtains.

"Sleep tight." David called after them, and Missy stared pointedly away from him as Star pulled the curtain off to one side and ushered her in. The brown eyed girl sat down on the bed's edge and stared at her, her face solemn.

"I didn't expect that David would bring you here."

"Me either." Missy was watching the boys on the other side of the curtain, Paul head banging on the fountain, Dwayne doing tricks on a skateboard in the corner, and Marko playing with a, what was it, a pigeon. "I wouldn't be here if my roommates hadn't locked me out."

"You shouldn't be here." Star whispered, and Missy flinched.

"Better here than the street." She said, and Star smiled sadly.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what you've done, what you've gotten yourself into." She said, and then she went on the other side of the curtain, and Missy watched her lead Laddie to a bed on the other side of the lobby.

What Star meant, she wasn't sure. Did the other girl know something that she didn't? What had she done? What had she gotten herself into? There was something about the way that David looked at Star, and the way Star looked back at him, that worried Missy. There was pain there, and she could feel it even if she couldn't put a reason to it. Star was a sad, tragic girl, and somehow, Missy knew that David was behind it. This was the very same group, Star and Laddie excluded, that she had pegged as dangerous when she first met. Did her changing opinions of them change if they were dangerous or not? Did she feel comfortable giving them her trust, staying with them?

Did she have a choice?

**Thank you for reading.**


	9. Wilde at Heart

_"The grass is not, in fact, always greener on the other side of the fence. No, not at all. Fences have nothing to do with it. The grass is greenest where it is watered. When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the grass wherever you may be."  
_  
Chapter Nine

Sharing a bed with another person, male or female regardless, it wasn't something that Missy had done since she was small, and the bed had always been her parents'. A king sized monster with four posters and deep, dark green sheets. Star's bed was smaller, and lumpier, but the bedclothes were soft and very comfortable. Star was an easy bedfellow, she didn't roll around or kick as she slept, she didn't talk or snore; heck, she barely breathed at all that Missy could see. Still, Missy didn't sleep. The sandman didn't come, and she lied awake, staring up at the stone ceiling and trying not to think about how much lying next to Star's barely breathing body made her think of lying next to a dead one. Most of the time, it is during our sleep, our dreams, where our subconscious reigns, that great personal truths are made clear to us. Things that otherwise, our rational, waking minds cannot or are not equipped to deal with.

Sometimes, all it takes is lying on a bed in the dark.

So Missy was still and hushed, and tried to let her mind quiet, listening to the other sounds that rushed in to fill the void left by her thoughts. Star's nearly nonexistent breathing, the wind whistling over old stone, and somewhere distant, water dripping. She listened to it all and was briefly astonished and disappointed that of everything she could hear, the ocean wasn't part of it. She laughed then, sharply, and she whipped her head to the side to see if she had woken Star.

The girl didn't even sigh.

Satisfied that Star wasn't going to be waking any time soon, Missy slipped her hand out from under the blanket and pushed her sleeve up her arm. She couldn't see the face of her watch no matter how hard she looked or how close she held her arm to her eyes, though she figured the sun had to be up by now, if she had been lying awake as long as she thought she had. She never had trouble sleeping before, and maybe it was just the fact that she was in a cave in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people she'd just met, but she didn't honestly care. She felt like she should be sleeping, and instead her mind was racing a mile a minute and her whole body felt like it was quivering. Why was she so wired?

She didn't have a clue, but she knew that she wasn't going to lie around and wait for her mind to settle down. She, well, she wanted to explore. She was smack-dab in a piece of history, a cave sure, but it was more than that. She lifted the cover a foot and wiggled to the edge of the bed. She got up, careful not to let the bed dip too much, and gently set the cover back down over Star. She left her sneakers by the bed where she'd left them when she laid down, and tiptoed out into the lobby in her socks. She knew that they would be filthy from the cave floor, but that was what the laundromat was for.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reasoning to the boys décor, and she wasn't sure she minded. It was haphazard, but it was perfect; she could tell just by looking that a bunch of boys lived there. Laddie's bed was on the other side of the lobby, and she made sure to steer clear of him just in case. He was a little boy, he needed his sleep.

There was an old couch, the fountain, a stereo. A couple stacks of comics and some leftover cartons of Chinese food. In one corner, tucked away from the rest of the jumble, there was a small bookshelf, absolutely overflowing with texts. All three shelves were full, and some were stacked on the top, and on the floor in front of it. "Wow." She whispered. Someone was an avid reader. She ran her fingertips over the spines, reading the titles out loud, one after another, until one caught her eye. She squealed quietly, ripping the old copy of Wilde's Dorian Gray from the shelf, delighting over the fact that it was as, if not more worn than her own copy. She held it against her breast as she walked, picking her way through the items littering the cave floor and trying not to fall. She flopped backward on the couch, raising the book above her face and cracking it open. She was at once bombarded by the cold, musty smell of a good, old book, and sighing, she began to read. "The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amid the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn."

She read until her eyes started to hurt, then more, until she couldn't keep them open anymore.

The first thing she was aware of after opening her eyes was that someone had covered her with a blanket, and the copy of Gray she had been reading when she fell asleep was still clutched tight against her chest. The second was that David and Star were awake on the other side of Star's bed curtain, talking in quiet voices, she heard her name, and sat up to listen.

"Why is she here, David?" The curtain was sheer enough that Missy could see them standing by the bed; Star's face was angry, but David's was calm.

"She needed a place to stay." It was hard for her to hear what he was saying from so far away, his voice was like a whisper, but he sounded like he was teasing Star.

"You know that's not what I mean." Star said, and Missy wondered what she did mean, but David looked in her direction in that moment, and their eyes locked. A slow, easy smile slid onto his lips, and Missy looked away, her heart pounding against her ribcage like it was trying to escape. How had he known she was listening? That was what she got for eavesdropping, she guessed.

She didn't look up at him when David past her, and when Star came out into the lobby, Missy avoided her eyes, embarrassed that she had been caught listening in on her and David. The couch sank on the opposite end and she looked over her shoulder at Star. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept for days, which made zero sense to Missy, because she hadn't woken up that long ago. It must have been emotional weariness, she figured. Her mother used to tell her that sometimes it was your heart that needed to rest just as much as your body. "Are you okay?" She asked, knowing that it was the one question you never really needed an answer to, because if you had to ask, you already knew the answer.

Star looked up at her, and she smiled, somehow managing to look sad while she did it. "How did you sleep?" Missy smiled, and even though she wanted to ask her why she had been talking to David about her, she didn't.

"Okay, I guess, I had some trouble falling asleep, and the cave makes a lot of weird noises."

Star laughed, and it was breathy and lovely in its authenticity. "It was hard for me at first too, I barely slept at all."

"It's weird, though, I couldn't hear the ocean at all." Missy frowned, biting her lower lip. "It was sort of disappointing, since we're so close to the water and all."

"Really?" Star asked, sounding surprised. "I can always hear the ocean at night."

"Your ears must be better than mine." Missy said, and Star's eyes got sad again. "Star? Can I ask you something?"

"Okay." Star said, and she pulled her legs up on the couch, folding them under her body.

"Did I do something?" She asked, and Star tilted her head to look at her quizzically.

"What do you mean?" She asked, and Missy made a motion over her shoulder at the curtained off sleeping area.

"You were talking to David about me." Star was quiet for a minute, and then she reached out and laid her hand on Missy's knee.

"There's something that you need to know about David and the boys, something that I can't tell you."

"That's…helpful." Missy said, and her brow furrowed. "Can you give me a hint, at least?"

"You seem nice, and that's why I'm saying these things to you, and why I haven't been very friendly towards you. I'm trying to help you." Star was saying, and Missy sort of nodded at her. "The boys aren't what they seem, but by the time you find that out for yourself, it'll be too late. Just, please, take my word for it, and stay as far from them as you can."

Missy thought about what she said, and she didn't think that Star sounded like a jealous girlfriend, if she had been, she would have just told her to stay away from David. No, she was telling her to stay away from all of them, and the little red flag that had appeared the first time she met the boys reared its head again. "Star…are they…dangerous?"

Star nodded at once, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes."

Missy's heart skipped a beat, and her thoughts whirled. The boys couldn't be dangerous, if they were, wouldn't they have done something to her before now? She didn't think Star was lying. The look in her eyes said that Star knew something more that she wasn't sharing, but then, hadn't the girl told her that herself?

_"There's something that you need to know about David and the boys, something that I can't tell you."_

Star lifted her head abruptly and stared at something over her head, so suddenly that Missy turned around to see what. "Hey." Dwayne was standing beside the couch, and his eyes looked past Missy at Star, communicating something that Missy couldn't hear. "We're going."

"Just a minute." Star said, and Dwayne nodded and left. Once he was gone, Star slipped off the couch and stood beside it, watching Missy with a forlorn look in her eyes. "I know how it sounds, but please, think about what I've said. Don't end up like me."

"What do you mean?" Missy asked, and Star's smile was very sad.

"For your sake, I hope you don't ever find out." She left after that, and Missy stared after her, feeling more confused than she felt she ever had in her life. So the boys were dangerous, but did she want to believe it? They had seemed a little rowdy before, but not bad, and they looked after Laddie, for Pete's sake, how could they be dangerous?

"Ugh!" She kicked the blanket off and pushed away from the couch. She walked over to the bookshelf she had found the night before, holding the other books aside and slipping The Picture of Dorian Gray back into its place.

"You like Wilde?" Her heart leapt right up into her throat, but instead of crying out, she whipped around to glare at the person who had snuck up on her.

"Don't any of you people make noise when you walk?" Marko smiled that smile of his, covering his mouth with his fist and sort of shrugging.

"Sometimes." He said, and then he stared at her like he was waiting for something.

Missy sighed. "Yes, I like Wilde." She said, picking the book off the shelf again. "But this is a first edition, wherever did you get it?"

"It's Dwayne's." Marko told her, plucking the book out of her hands and flipping through the first couple of pages very fast.

"Have you read it before?" Missy asked, and he nodded.

"Once."

Missy tilted her head, half smiling as she watched him frown at the book. "But you didn't like it."

He glanced up at her then, and his face was alit by a smile again. "Not really."

"It's such a sad story, isn't it?"

"Sad?" Marko asked, and she smiled softly at him.

"Well yes, what happened to Dorian was just tragic." She said, and Marko just shrugged.

"He killed his friend, didn't he? So he got what was coming to him, right?"

"I never thought that." Missy said, sounding sad. "He was just an innocent, and the world took him and made him a monster."

"He sold his soul."

"Yes." Missy laughed. "For eternal youth. How absurd."

Marko gave her a curious little smile. "You think wanting to live forever is absurd?"

"Wanting to do something and doing it are two entirely different things." Missy said. "I would think living forever would get old after a while. I get restless after a couple of hours, I can't imagine what eternity would do to me."

Marko just shook his head, giving her that secret smile again. "You'd be surprised."

Missy didn't have time to ponder over what he had said, because something small and fast slammed into her legs from behind, and she stumbled forward into Marko's chest. "Hey Missy!" The small and fast something said, sounding remarkably like Laddie.

"Hey Laddie." Missy said, sounding breathless as Marko gripped her shoulders, grinning like the devil himself. She pulled herself out of his hands, righting herself and smiling down at the grubby little boy who was tracing the lines in her palm with his nail. He glanced up at her with a shy smile, and wrapped his hand around hers.

"We're gonna go to the boardwalk." He said, and a sudden thought struck her.

"Wait, what time is it?" Missy asked.

"Sun's down." Laddie replied, and Missy made a shocked sound.

"I slept all day?" She cried, all at once aware that she hadn't showered, brushed her teeth, or changed her clothes in a day. "Oh god, I have to get home." She said, whipping around to look at Marko. "Oh god, my roommates are going to kill me." Laddie looked disappointed, and she tried to smile at him. "I have to go home eventually, you know."

"You could stay here." Laddie whispered, and Missy reached out and ruffled his hair.

"Let me go home for just a little bit." She told him. "Just long enough to get a shower and change my clothes, and maybe talk my roommates out of calling the national guard, and I'll be yours again, okay?"

Laddie looked up again and his smile was radiant. "Okay!" He dashed off then, and Marko shook his head.

"Sucker." Missy glared playfully at him and brushed past him.

So maybe she was making promises she shouldn't be planning on keeping, and ignoring a warning given to her by someone who had no reason to lie, but, well, she guessed, that's how hard it is to say no to a cute kid.

It was Paul who drove her home, and his driving was, among other things, more exhilarating than Marko's had been. She found herself screaming the whole time, not out of fear, but more out of elation. The kind of good, happy screaming that, when you're through, you feel better for it; and she did. The bike stopped suddenly, before she had time to brace herself, and she slammed into Paul's back, eliciting a loud laugh from him. "We're here."

"I noticed." Missy grumbled, sliding off the bike and rubbing her nose where it had banged against Paul's back. She glanced through the open doors of the comic store, and saw Edgar and Alan looking back at her.

They were furious.

"You're gonna let a couple of kids tell you off for staying out all night, aren't you?" Paul asked, and Missy could tell by looking at him that he didn't understand why she would do something like that.

"They care about me, at least I think they do." She said, and she realized that she wasn't sure that the Frog brothers cared about her at all.

"Yeah, well, if they don't lock you up in the tower, you'll find us later right?" Paul was grinning, and Missy smiled softly.

"Maybe." She said, and Paul revved his bike's engine, giving her a roguish smile.

"Catch you later."She watched him drive off, and then she sighed, looking back over her shoulder at Edgar and Alan inside the store. She was going to have to face the music sooner or later, she just wished it didn't have to be sooner.

"Where were you?" Edgar shouted at her the moment she was through the door, and she raised her eyes slowly to look at him. He had come around from the counter faster than she had expected him to, and angrier than he had any right to be. "You didn't come home!" The customers that were browsing looked in their direction, dropped the comics they were holding, and slid past her to the door before they got swept up in Edgar's tirade.

"I did." Missy said. "The door was locked."

"We told you to be in by one!" Edgar was pointing the finger of blame at her, and although it was true that she had been the one to stay out past the curfew they had set, it had been an innocent slip. She had lost track of time because she was having fun, and Edgar was acting like she was a delinquent. "We can't be up all night waiting for you!" He said, though from the looks of the matching baggage he and Alan were sporting, it was obvious that they had been. "We have school! Which, because you decided not to come home and make us look for your sorry ass, we had to miss today!"

"We looked for you all day." Alan broke in, and Missy glared at Edgar to avoid looking at him. She knew that if she did, the look on his face would make her feel guilty, and she would give in.

"I appreciate that you were concerned about me, really, but you don't have the right to shout at me." She began. "I was with friends, we lost track of time and when I got home, I tried to get you to open the door, but you didn't answer."

"Friends?" Edgar scoffed. "You've been here, what, three days?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Missy asked. Did he think she wasn't capable of making friends? She had gone a long time in her life with no one to talk to, partly because of her self-imposed isolation from people her own age. Her father had told her called her his "little mother", and she supposed she acted like one sometimes. She had been forced to grow up a lot faster than she would have liked. She had lost both of her parents, but she couldn't cry forever over it. She couldn't expect the rest of the world to stop for her because she'd lost hers. No. So she grew up, dried her face, and went to school. It didn't mean she had to like it, it didn't even mean she had to make friends with her schoolmates. Somehow, not having to listen to the other girls her age talk about boys and who wasn't thin enough or who was too thin, well, it made sitting in school all day just a little bit more bearable.

"Nothing, nothing." Edgar said. "Just wondering what sort of people stay out all night with someone they've just met and then let her sleep over. All day."

"If you even think the word vampire, I swear I'll hit you." Missy declared, and Edgar frowned all the harder. "Besides, you let me stay here, and you only knew me for a couple of minutes!"

"Yeah." Edgar snapped. "Beginning to rethink that decision."

Missy recoiled like she'd been struck, and Alan glared at his brother. "What the hell, Edgar?"

"We don't need this sort of trouble." Edgar said. "She could have gotten herself killed out there, or worse." Somehow the way he said it, Missy wanted to hit him again. Did everything with him have to be about vampires? Did all roads lead to Transylvania?

"So you're going to throw her out?" Alan was asking. "Where's she gonna go?"

"She could stay with her friends, you know, the ones who stay out all night and sleep all day."

"Just stop it!" Missy hadn't realized that the volume of her voice had been on a steady incline since she'd walked through the door, but now, she noticed, she was screaming. Edgar and Alan turned to look at her, and Edgar looked twice as surprised as his brother. "If you were worried about me, say so! Don't try and make me feel guilty because I won't! I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty for something that wasn't my fault! I lost track of time, I didn't kill anyone! I'm seventeen years old! I'm tired of being treated like I can't do anything! You're sitting here talking about vampires and all you have to do is say 'Missy, Alan and I were worried about you because you didn't come home this morning, please don't do it again.'"

"You said you were nineteen." Edgar interjected, his voice quiet and his face calm.

"I lied." Missy hissed, and then she turned, storming up the stairs and down the hall, slamming her bedroom door behind her so hard that she felt it run through the floor.

Anger, and also fear, she was told, gave you the strength to do things you didn't couldn't under normal circumstances.

Like move an armoire in front of a doorway in record timing. She sat on the floor when she was through, with her back against the armoire, feeling like she wanted to throwing something or cry, or both. She didn't think she would end up doing either, but she wanted to be sitting when or if the latter happened.

"Missy?" She should have expected that she wouldn't be left alone, but she was still annoyed.

"What do you want?"

It was a couple of seconds before Alan answered her, and in that time she heard him sit down on the other side of the door. "We really were worried about you."

Missy sighed. "I know that."

"I won't let him throw you out, you know." Alan said through the doorway, and Missy laughed.

"Thanks." She said, and then her voice got serious. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Edgar worried too." Alan told her, and she snorted. "No, really. He's not mad."

"Sounded like he was." Missy grumbled, and Alan was quiet for a while again.

"So…that guy with the bike. Is he the one you stayed with last night?" Missy rolled her eyes. Men.

"Him and some of his friends." She said, and she almost heard Alan scowl. "We had an orgy and then they offered to make me an immortal, blood drinking, creature of the night."

"Missy!"

"Don't worry," Missy was fighting back a smile. "I turned them down. You guys were mad enough about me staying out all night, like I needed to give Edgar an excuse to murder me."

She thought she heard Alan laughing, but the sound was cut short by the sudden, quick sound of someone else's footsteps. "Hey."

"What?" Alan asked, and Missy was flattered that he sounded so annoyed on her behalf.

"She in there?" She heard Edgar ask.

"She can hear you, you know." Missy called out, and Edgar grunted. "What do you want Edgar?"

Edgar didn't say anything, and for a long time, none of them did. After a couple of minutes of enduring painful silence, Missy sighed. "It's okay, Edgar." Sometimes it was a lot easier to say 'you're forgiven' than it was to say 'I'm sorry'. Missy understood that.

"Okay." Edgar replied, and Missy heard his footsteps fade down the hall, and pick up in the room next to hers.

"He's probably going to be in there for a while." Alan told her, and she pushed herself up off the floor, standing.

"That's okay." Missy said. "He can sulk if he wants."

"Missy?" Alan said, very softly.

"Yep?" Missy called back, planting her shoulder against her armoire and slowly, and not without effort, began to put it back in its place. She really needed to get something easier to move to barricade her door with.

"Glad you're okay."

Missy glanced back at her door, and thought about the conversation she had had with Star. "Yeah." She said. "Me too."

**Thank you for reading.**


	10. Dangerous

**First off, let me apologize for the wait, because reality decided to lay a bitch slap on me and writing sort of took the back seat for a while there. Hopefully it won't happen again. Second, some of you may have noticed that I have not made it clear what the final pairing in this story will be, (if there even is one at all, who knows? Me, not you. It's a secret.), and hopefully none of you have started guessing yet. However, I AM curious to see who you lot are interested in seeing Missy end up with, (or just who you'd like to see her spend time with next, platonically or otherwise) and possibly, if you feel like sharing, why you feel that way. It doesn't have to be for any particularly good reason, it could just be because you like this boy over that boy. I'd just like a little feedback…and, also, to see which readers I managed to lose during my hiatus and who of you are still with me. To the ones who have stuck with me, this one is for you. Enjoy, and as an extra treat, see my profile for the banner I made for this story.**

_"Life begins on the other side of despair."_

Chapter Ten

_"You seem nice, and that's why I'm saying these things to you, and why I haven't been very friendly towards you. I'm trying to help you." Star was saying, and Missy sort of nodded at her. "The boys aren't what they seem, but by the time you find that out for yourself, it'll be too late. Just, please, take my word for it, and stay as far from them as you can."_

_Missy thought about what she said, and she didn't think that Star sounded like a jealous girlfriend, if she had been, she would have just told her to stay away from David. No, she was telling her to stay away from all of them, and the little red flag that had appeared the first time she met the boys reared its head again. "Star…are they…dangerous?"_

_Star nodded at once, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes."_Missy's problems were lining up faster than people waiting to ride the Giant Dipper and falling into place like dominoes and generally building up quicker than she had the time to deal with them. She was, in a single word, torn. Star's warning rang loud and clear in her mind, and as much as what the sad brown-eyed girl had said bothered her, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it just yet. Then there was Laddie, and the promise she had been hoodwinked into making. He was, after all, only a little boy, and it didn't seem fair to him to turn her back on him without explanation. Still, if the boys really were as dangerous as Star had implied, did she really want to wait for them to give her a reason to run from them?

Santa Carla was turning out to be a lot more trouble than she had anticipated, and between trying to keep the Frog brothers, Star, and Laddie all happy; there wasn't much time left over for the happy new life she had promised herself. Her father had told her once that if you try to make everybody happy, all you'll end up doing is making yourself miserable.

That sounded about right to her. She certainly felt miserable, and her shower didn't help at all. She would have thought that with as long as she stayed in there, it would have made her feel better. She stayed under the spray long after she was clean, watching the water swirl down the drain and wishing her problems could be so easily rinsed away.

She didn't want to have to face Edgar and Alan again so soon, and she didn't want to go out, no matter what she had promised Laddie; but she knew that she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, either. Her gut told her that Star hadn't lied to her, but what troubled her was how she was supposed to distance herself from the boys without them wanting to know why she was suddenly so cold toward them. And what if she didn't want to distance herself from them at all? They were a strange group certainly, and intimidating, but none of them had tried or expressed any intent to harm her, and excluding David and Star, they were the most welcoming residents that Santa Carla had to offer her thus far.

She wanted to tell her gut and Star to leave her alone and let her think for herself, and she wished more than ever that her mother were still alive. Her mother had always had good advice, when she wasn't screaming, clawing, out of her mind crazy, that is.

She wondered what her mother would say if she could see her now. "So long as you keep avoiding your problems, Missy, they're not going to go away. They're going to get bigger, until they aren't so little anymore, till they're big enough to swallow you whole." She felt like if she closed her eyes, and listened hard enough, she could almost hear her mother's voice in the room with her. "You've got to face your problems head on, honey, no matter how scared you are." What was it that William S. Hasley said? "Touch a thistle timidly, and it pricks you. But grasp it boldly, and its spines crumble."

Missy wanted to face her problems, really, but it was so much easier to hide up in her room than it was to go downstairs and face the Frogs. She thought about Laddie's grubby, happy little face, and how disappointed he would be if she stayed in. She let her mind conjure images of the boys, but then she started thinking about Dwayne's bare chest instead and realizing that that was entirely a road of thought she didn't need to go down just then, focused herself instead on her current issue. Stay in, go out, whatever she decided, she couldn't spend the rest of the night in just a towel.

She yanked on a pair of jeans, wincing when the denim snagged on the still damp skin of her legs and buttoning them around the same time she heard the rumble and roar of a motorbike pulling up outside. Just one? She thought, and the different parts of her brain started taking bets on which one of the four it would be. Considering her luck, it would probably be David.

...or worse, Paul.

Acting quickly before Edgar or Alan came up the stairs to ask her why there was a biker (slash potential vampire, she was sure) out in front of the store and caught her in her bra, she slipped her arms into a deep, navy blue boyfriend cardigan and buttoned it up.

"Missy!" Edgar's voice came from what Missy approximated to be the foot of the stairs, and she rolled her eyes. Right on cue.

"Naked!" She called back, sitting on her bed and separating her hair into two sections. A couple of seconds later and she had her hair in two, low pigtails and Edgar was kicking her door open.

They stared at each other for a couple of long seconds and then Edgar grunted. "You are not."

"Mm, good eye." Missy slipped her feet into her sneakers and laced them up, standing up and brushing her hands down her body to smooth her clothes out.

"You're going out again?" Edgar frowned. "You just got back."

"I made a promise." Missy shrugged, but he caught her arm as she went to pass by him.

"Missy, those guys are-"

"Save it, Edgar." Missy interrupted him, reaching out and tugging on the hanging ends of his headband. "I know what you're going to say. Trouble, right? Bad? Evil? Vampires? Am I close or what?"

Edgar batted her hand away and glared. "I was going to say assholes."

Missy started, shocked. "Um…alright."

"But you're right about them being trouble." She knew it. "They're on the boardwalk every night, making trouble, picking fights, getting themselves kicked off the boardwalk, going off with a different girl every night." Missy was quiet, not because she wanted to disagree but couldn't, but because what Edgar was saying sounded exactly like the boys. "A lot of the girls they go off with, well, they just sort of disappear." Her head shot up, and she gasped. "Maybe they leave town, but in Santa Carla, no one really bothers to ask."

Missy paled. "What are you trying to say, Edgar?"

"You already know." Edgar said, and Missy flinched. It was becoming hard for her to convince herself that what Star had said about the boys was false. "You've hung out with them, you must have gotten a vibe from them." She had, but that didn't mean she was going to tell Edgar that. "If you keeping hanging out with them-"

"Stop." Missy stared down at her sneakers, wiggling her toes and avoiding Edgar's eyes. "I get it."

"You don't." Edgar said, and Missy thought he sounded sad. "If you keep hanging out with them, you're gonna end up like the other girls." He let go of her elbow and left her doorway, and a couple of seconds later she heard his and Alan's bedroom door shut. Missy stood in her doorway after he was gone, staring at the cross on the wall above her bed and listening to her heart thump in the quiet left over. It was stupid, she realized, to let Edgar's inane paranoia get to her, but it was hard not to when he was the second person to confirm the alarming suspicions she had had when she first met the boys.

"Missy!" It was Alan's voice this time, and she started out of her daze and called back.

"Coming!" She hesitated for almost a minute, tiptoeing down the hall and pausing at the top of the stairs. Alan was standing at the bottom, and the expression on his face echoed what Edgar had shared in the bedroom with her. She took the stairs too fast and stumbled on the last one, grabbing for Alan to steady herself and only succeeding in ending up on the floor on her knees. "Oh, gravity hates me." She moaned, rubbing her sore knees through her jeans.

"Jesus." Edgar snapped from behind the counter. "We won't have to worry about anyone killing her, she'll trip and fall off a cliff first." He rolled his eyes and Missy puffed out an angry breath.

"You know, if I wasn't such a forgiving person, you'd be dead meat by now." She pointed a finger at him as she got to her feet again, glaring.

"Can't leave you alone at all, can we?" The voice caught her by surprise, and she turned, spotting a familiar, curly-haired blonde lounging against the counter. Her face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet and she mentally cursed the heavens for giving her such rotten luck. Why couldn't she have been born graceful?

"What are you doing here?" She asked, shuffling closer to the counter and trying to calm the heat in her cheeks. She glanced at Alan, who had joined his brother behind the register and saw him glaring at the back of Marko's head, one corner of his lip curled up.

Marko was staring at her, leaning back against the counter and grinning like the devil. "Making sure you keep your promise." Missy didn't say anything, the way Marko was looking at her made sure of that. His smile took the words right out of her mouth, and when he reached out and curled the end of one of her pigtails around his index finger, her heart all but stopped. "Cute."

She tried to find her tongue again, stuttering out a response after a few agonizing seconds. "T-Thank you." She said, and she heard Edgar snort.

"Oh, please." He said, and Missy whipped her head around to glare at him.

"Bye, Edgar." She snapped.

"Bye, Missy." Edgar snapped back. His face softened then, and he shifted, foot to foot, almost like he was uncomfortable. "What time will you be home?" He asked, and Missy felt herself smile at the way he said it. She supposed the apartment above the comic shop was her home now, but it was nice to hear that Edgar thought that way too.

"By one." She said, and when he gave her a skeptical look, she made a crossing gesture over her heart. "I promise."

"Don't worry, boys." Marko hid a grin behind his fist, tugging Missy's hand gently as he led her to the door. The Frogs glared. "I'll bring her back in one piece." Edgar and Alan exchanged looks that were equal parts incredulous and gravely concerned, and that was the last thing Missy saw before Marko whisked her out the door and into the buzzing Santa Carla nightlife.

Marko's bike was parked out front, and Missy found that it looked different without the other three beside it. She fingered the piece of fur he had hanging from the handlebar and smiled. Weird.

"You really live with them?" Marko made no effort to remove his hand from hers, and Missy was too busy staring at their entwined fingers in disbelief to pull her hand back.

"Is that so weird?" She asked, tilting her head as Marko led her away from his bike. "Wait, you're just going to leave your bike here?"

"It's a little weird." Marko replied, showing her a half smile. "And trust me, no one's going to steal it." She would have to take his word for it, she supposed, but there were a lot of thugs in Santa Carla, none of them above stealing a motorcycle, she figured. Marko was confident, though, and she supposed if he wasn't concerned, she needn't be either. "So, you're from Seattle, right?"

"Huh? Yeah." Missy said. More and more she was trying not to think about Seattle and Renee, it just made focusing on her new life all the more difficult. "I grew up there."

Marko nodded, making a quiet sound of acknowledgement in his throat. "So why'd you run away?"

"Who said I ran away?" Missy countered. She knew she sounded defensive, but, well, she didn't have any reason not to be.

Marko shrugged one shoulder, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Most of us are runaways, in Santa Carla at least. I assumed."

"Are you a runaway?" She asked, and Marko nodded, a little smile touching his lips again. "Where are you from, originally?"

"London." Marko replied, and Missy started.

"But you don't have an accent or anything." She said, and Marko shrugged.

"It was a long time ago." He replied.

The lights and sounds of the boardwalk swallowed them up and they walked together in silence for a time until they reached the carousel, and Marko stopped, released her hand, and turned to face her. "Why did you leave Seattle?"

There were a lot of reasons she could have given, and it would have been easier to lie, but something about the way Marko looked at her made her want to tell him the truth. "I wasn't happy." She said at last.

"Why weren't you happy?" Marko asked.

"There were a lot of reasons."

"Such as?" He prompted, and Missy wrapped her arms around herself, frowning.

"Why do you want to know?" She asked. Her old life wasn't a topic she wanted to get into.

"Curiosity." He replied.

"Curiosity killed the cat." Missy said, and the look in Marko's eyes made her shiver.

"But satisfaction brought it back." Missy didn't reply, staring determinedly at her sneakers. "Quid pro quo."

"Squid what?" Missy asked, eyes wide.

Marko laughed. "It's Latin, 'something for something'. You answer one of my questions, and I'll answer one of yours."

"I can ask you anything?" There was really only one thing she wanted to know, well, to be honest, there were probably about a thousand, but only one on her mind at the moment. "And you'll answer me straight?"

"If I can." Marko replied, and Missy believed him.

"Okay, what's your question?" She asked, though she had a feeling she knew what it was going to be.

"Why did you leave Seattle, really?"

Missy sighed. "I told you, I was unhappy."

"You're dodging. Why weren't you happy?" He spoke placidly, though his eyes were thick with an emotion that Missy couldn't identify. She stared into those eyes, and five feet from the carousel's flashing lights and music, all she could see was him.

"I lost my parents." She whispered. "My mother when I was ten, and my dad two years ago. My stepmother, Renee, she started treating me really horribly after my dad died, and it all sort of escalated into one big fight a couple of days ago. She hit me with our phone and then I hit her over the head with a vase and left. I hopped on a bus and here I am."

"I see." Marko's hand came up and his thumb stroked the place on her jaw where the welt Renee had left behind was beginning to lighten and heal. Missy thought he looked at her too long, as though he forgot he was looking. She looked back, and her took heart took its time quieting down.

"Yeah. Now for my question." Missy took a deep breathe to calm herself and waited until Marko pulled his hand away to try and speak again. "And you'll answer it honestly?"

"To the best of my ability." Marko replied.

"Okay." It was now or never, and as much as she was concerned about what Marko's answer would be, she needed to get her worries out there in the open. "Star..." She witnessed the tensing of Marko's entire body at the name, and his face became stony. "She, well...she told me that you and the others...she said you were...dangerous." She saw Marko's jaw clench, and she regretted her next words before they ever left her mouth. "Are you?"

Marko leaned in, and her heart sped up. The curly-haired boy moved in until his mouth was inches from her skin and Missy found herself remembering the dream she had had two nights before. The carousel spinning, Marko and Paul cornering her, and David's laughing, fanged face. _"Wish you could stay."_ She shuddered, and instantly felt stupid for even entertaining the thought. David and the boys weren't vampires. End of story. She tried to tell herself that Marko wasn't about to bite into her neck, but when the boy's lips touched the hollow of her throat, her heart skipped a beat anyway. Marko must have felt her jump, because he pulled back, and there was a wicked smile on his face. A smile that was free of fang, she was glad to note. "What do you think? Am I dangerous?"

Missy's mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out. She thought she must have looked like one of the fish her dad and granddad used to pull up out of the water at the lake house, flopping around and gasping for air until her grandfather tossed them in a bucket. "I-I…I don't know what I think." She said when her voice came back to her, and Marko's grin got wider.

"You'll let me know when you figure it out, right?" He asked, and Missy nodded dumbly. She didn't think she would ever get things figured out, not if the boys kept pitching her curves.

"Long wait." She warned him, and he snickered.

"I've got time."

In front of Missy's eyes, Marko was very still, and his eyes looked almost to her like they had clouded over. "Marko?" She asked, and when he didn't respond or even blink, she reached out and touched his upper arm. "Hey, space cadet!" She said, and gave his arm a light squeeze. His body shook, the fog disappeared from his eyes, and he was smiling again.

"Sorry." He said. "I must have zoned out." Missy bit her lip. She didn't believe him, but what other reason could there have been for him spacing out on her like that? He looked like he was a million miles away, and then, all of a sudden, he was acting like he hadn't just gone into a trance on her?

"Right. So, um, where are the others?" She shifted a little, rubbing her left arm with her right hand and chewing on her lip.

Marko smiled. "Am I boring you?"

"That's not it at all!" Missy's face turned red again. "It's just, you guys are always together." She didn't add that she felt more comfortable in a group than she did one-on-one with any of the boys. A drawback of growing up without a mother, and there were several, was that she had never had another female to talk about boys with. As a result, she was completely clueless when it came to how to act around them.

"We're meeting up later." Marko explained, and when he started walking again, he took her wrist instead of her hand. "Till then, we'll keep each other company, sound good?"

"Okay." Missy said, and she was sure she was scarlet to her hairline. Dwayne hadn't said much of anything to her during their time together, and Paul, well, she didn't think she got nearly as flustered around him as she did Dwayne and Marko. Maybe it was just lingering annoyance she felt for the lanky blonde, but he didn't mess with her head the way the others did.

She learned quickly that Marko was a fast walker, and considering the fact that she was not well-known for her grace, she was stumbling over her feet to keep up with him. He led her down the wooden steps to the beach, and she slipped her arm out of his grasp so she could bend down and untie her shoelaces. "I don't want sand in my shoes." She explained, and he just stared down at her, his head tilted with a half smirk on his face. She held her sneakers in one hand, trudging after Marko, disappointed that he didn't seem to have the slightest bit of trouble maneuvering on the sand. It was like he didn't sink at all, but walked on top of the sand.

She was relieved when he stopped walking, some ways down from the stairs they had come down, and far from the bonfires. They were under the pier, she noted, and the tide was out. They could walk right up to the wood pylons without fear of getting wet. She could see what had to be hundreds of shells half buried in the sand, and she crouched down to pick through them, sitting her shoes beside her. She found a decent sized one, a scallop shell. It was white on the outside and a peachy pink color on the inside, and around the size of her palm.

"David likes you." Marko's voice floated across the void to her, quieter than the surf, and she turned her head from the shell to look up at him.

"It doesn't show." She told him.

"He's curious about you." Marko explained. "David gets fixated on things, even people, that interest him. Obsessed is probably a better word."

Missy's eyes narrowed and she got to her feet again. "Is that why you asked me about Seattle? Because David wanted to know?" Somehow the thought that Marko hadn't wanted to know about her at all stung her, but it infuriated her even more that David had sent Marko to do his interrogating for him.

"He didn't ask me to." Marko whispered, but Missy didn't buy it. Hadn't David asked her about the picture in her locket when they first met? It seemed likely that David was still wondering about it, since she hadn't exactly been in a sharing mood that first night. She was angry and ashamed that Marko had managed to make her spill about her parents and Renee. Him and his stupid caring eyes and sweet smiles.

"Why is David so curious about me, Marko?" Marko frowned at her, but he didn't answer. "I'm not interesting." Marko didn't agree or disagree with her, and Missy's frustration grew. "Go ahead and tell him I'm an orphan or a runaway or whatever you feel like telling him." She threw the shell at him, and it bounced of his chest. He didn't so much as blink to acknowledge it. "And while you're at it, tell him to leave me alone. All of you can just leave me alone." She brushed past him, and Marko didn't follow her or call out to stop her. She sighed. It wasn't how she had thought the night would go, but Star and Edgar's warnings were still fresh in her mind, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about figuring out a way to tell the boys she didn't want to see them anymore.

It wasn't until she got back to the boardwalk that she remembered that she was still barefoot. She had left her shoes down on the beach. "Ugh!" She ran across the boardwalk as fast as she was able, slipping past people and shouting apologies every time she jostled someone. It was still early and the boardwalk was bustling with activity, so it took her longer to maneuver her way back to the comic shop. Edgar and Alan wore twin expressions of surprise to see her back so soon, but it was Edgar who noticed her nude feet.

"What happened to your shoes?" He asked, and Missy ripped the hair bands out of her hair and shook her hair out, hissing under her breath a reply.

"I lost them."

"Want us to help you look for them?" Alan offered at the same time that Edgar snorted.

"How do you lose something that's tied to your feet?"

Missy sighed and walked over to the stairs leading up to the apartment. "No, forget it. I'll buy new ones." She felt their eyes on her back as she walked upstairs, but they didn't say anything else to her. She was grateful. She didn't bother shutting her door behind her, and just laid out flat on her bed, hiding her face in her pillow. Her life was her business, wasn't it? Her life story wasn't a happy one, and she was sick and tired of the look people got in their eyes when they heard about her parents. She didn't want David sending Marko to ask questions about her just to satisfy his obsession. She didn't want to talk about her parents anymore.

She shucked her sweater and jeans and left them on the floor where they dropped, slipping her white cotton nightshirt down over her body and used one of her hair bands from earlier to pull her hair up into a loose ponytail. She plucked Dorian Gray off the shelf, crawled on top of her bedspread, and flipped through the book's pages, trying to find where she'd left off back at the cave.

A couple of chapters passed, and a knock on her doorframe made her lift her eyes. Alan was standing in her open doorway, and in his left hand was a pair of battered mint green sneakers. "My shoes!"

"That guy from before brought them back. Said to tell you he was sorry." Alan set her shoes down on the edge of her bed and backed out of her room, leaving her alone again.

Missy reached out and pulled her shoes to her, spotting something white inside of the left one. She stuck her hand inside and withdrew a small package, something hard folded up in white paper. She unfolded the paper and the scallop shell she had found beneath the pier fell out onto her lap. She held it up in front of her eyes to look at it, smiling softly. She turned back to the paper, and brought it closer to read what had been written on the inside. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but the three words written on the paper brought both a blush and a smile to her face.

_"You are interesting."  
_

**Thank you for reading.**

**Okay, so I know not a lot happened in this chapter except for a bit of cuteness on Marko's part, and Missy throwing a semi-tantrum. It'll get better next chapter, I promise. Also, I've noticed that I haven't really taken the time to thank any of you for reviewing, so here goes. ShootKristina, ThexHushxSound, lunamirrior, -lover, ShatteredSister, Santa Carla Sunset****, and Morgana: Thank you all for reading and taking the time to tell me what you thought.**


	11. To the Beat of a Different Heart

_"If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day."_

Chapter Eleven

_"Melissa Van Buren, a seventeen year old girl that has been missing from the Seattle area since the night of the eighteenth was reportedly seen in Santa Carla, California on the nights of the twentieth, twenty-first, and twenty-second, according to local residents. The Santa Carla police believe her to be dwelling somewhere in the area, but the search is still on-going. The girl's stepmother Renee Van Buren has offered a substantial reward for any information that might lead to the discovery and return of her daughter. If you have any relevant information pertaining to the case, the Seattle police ask that you please call them at-"_

The numbers flashed across the screen and Missy reached for the clicker to change the channel as the same video of Renee that every news station had been showing since she ran away started to play. _"Please, Missy. Come home. Your mother misses you." _She flicked the power button with her thumb and threw the remote on the bed beside her. A week already since she'd left and Renee had not relented, Missy doubted severely that she ever would. It wasn't in either of their natures to give up, and where Missy would run to the ends of the earth to stay hidden, Renee would hunt for her until the end of her days. It was a miserable situation, checking over her shoulder every time someone came through the door, dreading the next time she looked that it might Renee at last.

Missy turned her head and stared out the window at the wet, gray world, watching the rain fall down on the people who refused even though the rides were closed because of the rain, to keep off of the boardwalk. The shops were still open, and she figured that must be what drew them despite the storm. "Hm." She hummed, listening to the sounds the raindrops made as they collided with the windowpane. Funny how the weather only ever seemed to reflect her bad moods.

With the shades pulled back, Edgar and Alan's parents' bedroom didn't seem half as foreboding as it had with them drawn; and considering it was the only room with a working television set, Missy was willing to forbear the fragrance of stale bed sheets, dust, and marijuana smoke for the ten minutes a day she felt courageous enough to turn on the news. Edgar and Alan never bothered her when she was watching the news. They never complained when she slammed her bedroom door shut on her way back to her room, and it was almost like they didn't hear it when she threw things around her room and cried for an hour. They must have known it had something to do with the what she watched on the television in their parents' room, but they didn't ask.

Neither of them had brought up their fight three days ago, or asked her why she had lied about her age, or why she'd run away. She preferred it that way. It was easier to be in denial about things if someone else didn't keep reminding her. She dwelled on it enough herself without Edgar and Alan's help.

As much as her life back in Seattle had been miserable, it had been a simple life. Wake up, avoid Renee, go to school, skip school, come home, avoid Renee, go to bed. Things in Santa Carla were a thousand times more complicated and confusing. "Missy! We're home!" She turned her wrist so she could see the inside, her watch's face shining the time up at her. Three-fifteen.

She slid off the bed and walked over to the windows, pulling the curtains inward and cloaking the room in dark and gloom once more. She made sure the bedspread was smooth, and shut the door quietly behind her as she left.

"Welcome back." She called, jogging down the stairs and managing an almost graceful landing at the base. "How was school?"

"Quit asking." Edgar snapped at her, dropping his backpack on the floor and turning around to lock the doors again. He had said there was no point keeping the store open when it was raining out because most of the people who came in when it was were usually just looking for a place to wait things out until the rain let up enough to go back out. Judging by the looks of Edgar and Alan's clothes and hair, Missy could see that the rain had picked up with a vengeance again. "It was the same as it is everyday."

"He's in a bad mood." Alan whispered to her as he slipped past her.

"Isn't he always?" Missy called back, and Edgar whipped his head around to glare at her. That was when she got a good look at his face. "Whoa, wait a minute." She hurried across the space between them before he could run, grabbing his chin with one hand and using the other to sweep his hair out of his face. The younger frog's left eye was swollen shut, and the side of his mouth was busted open. "What happened?"

"Get off me." Edgar slapped her hands away and backed out of her touch. "I'm fine."

"Did you get in a fight?" Missy asked, and Alan snorted.

"A fight implies he fought back when he got hit." He said. "He got beat up."

"Shut up." Edgar hissed at his brother, and Missy frowned sympathetically.

"Come with me." She said, touching his shoulder before turning for the stairs. She wasn't sure if Edgar would come quietly or not, but as she reached the upstairs hallway, she heard someone's feet on the steps behind her and smiled. She slipped into the parent's bedroom again, and over to the fridge. She tugged the door open and retrieved a can of soda. "Come here." She called to Edgar, who had frozen in the doorway. He took a step inside the room, and she met him two-thirds of the way, lifting her arm to press the cold aluminum to his eye. "That hurt?" She asked, and he shook his head a fraction. She grabbed his hand and raised it, guiding his fingers around the can. "Keep that there, okay? It'll help with the swelling."

"Okay." He said, and Missy reached up and ruffled his hair, brushing past him to leave when she felt his hand on her arm. "Hey." Edgar said. "Thanks."

Missy tilted her head and just smiled. "What are friends for?"

She met Alan out in the hall and grabbed his arm, dragging him into her room before he could argue. She pushed him toward the bed and kicked her foot back to shut her door. "Okay, spill." She said.

"Spill what?" Alan asked, flopping down on her bed and frowning.

"Why did Edgar come home with a black eye?"

"You might want to keep your voice down if you're trying to be secretive." Alan told her. "These walls are paper thin and Edgar has really good hearing."

"Come on, Alan." She said, and he shrugged.

"I don't know what it was about, it happened during third period." Alan said, and elaborated when she stared pointedly at him. "I have government third period, Edgar has gym."

"Did you ask him?" Missy asked, and Alan glared at her.

"Of course I did." He said. "You think I wasn't curious why he left second period fine and showed up for fourth with a shiner like he has?" He sniffed. "He wouldn't tell me, but I asked around and a lot of people seem to think it was about a girl."

"A girl?" Missy asked. She hadn't meant to sound as shocked as she had, but she didn't exactly peg Edgar as the smooth with ladies type. They weren't exactly normal, the Frog brothers, but Edgar was twice as insane as his brother was.

"Yeah." Alan said, and Missy was relieved to hear that he sounded as surprised as she did. "Someone said that Rick, the other guy, was running his mouth about some girl from the boardwalk and Edgar told him to lay off. I guess all Rick heard was 'Hit me as hard as you can and let's see if I can bruise your knuckles with my face'."

Missy winced, but her interest was piqued nonetheless. "Did you ever find out the girl's name?"

Alan shook his head. "Nobody seemed to know, apparently neither of them actually said it." Missy was silent for a long while, and then Alan shifted uncomfortably. "Can I…go?"

"Huh?" Missy started. "Oh, yeah, go ahead." She heard her door click open and shut and moved to sit down on her bed. She didn't think she would be able to get Edgar to spill the beans about his mystery girl, but the curiosity was killing her.

She thought of a new way to ask him each time he told her to butt out, each more inventive than the last. Persuasion hadn't worked, and neither had trickery. She was ashamed to admit she had even tried bribery.

…but bribery had failed too.

She would have tried threatening him if she thought it would have succeeded, but judging by the black eye he was sporting, he could take a licking, no problem."Just, shut up. Stop asking me." Edgar told her, moving around the counter, to get away from her, she assumed. "She's not important."

Missy leaned against the counter by the register and swung one hand up to point at her own eye. "Yeah, really looks like she isn't."

Edgar just glared, and it must have drawn painfully at his split lip because he winced. "Watch the store."

"Wait!" Missy cried. She hadn't watched the register since the last time the brothers had been foolish enough to let her, but she'd never had to work the register at night! It was their busiest time of day! "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get a hotdog." Edgar growled. "You want one?" Missy pulled a face and he grunted. "I guess not. Look, it's no big deal, you know how to work the register, and Alan's upstairs if you need help." The elder Frog had come home with a great deal of homework, apparently, because he hadn't surfaced since he got home at three. It was seven-thirty now.

Missy sighed. "Fine. But hurry, okay?" Edgar waved at her as he walked out, and Missy leaned out over the counter to shout at him. "Bring me back some cotton candy!"

…he wasn't going to bring her back any cotton candy.

She set her elbows on the glass counter and propped her head up on her hands. _Maybe no one will come in. _The rain had stopped not long after school had let out, just in time for the boardwalk to dry up so the rides could be opened for the night. Outside she could hear the screams and cheers of the Santa Carlans living it up, wishing she could be anywhere but stuck watching the register. _Stupid Edgar. _

She reached down and retrieved the comic book that Edgar had given her earlier to read, ignoring the picture of the cover _(Why is the vampire blue, of all colors?)_ and flipping to the first page. She hadn't gotten past the third frame when two hands appeared in her line of sight, blocking the comic. "Hey, superstar, what're you readin'?" Startled, her head flew up and cracked into the jaw of the person who was leaning over her. The lanky body above hers recoiled and a hand came up to massage the body's jaw the same way hers was rubbing the back of her head. Her eyes focused and she realized it was Paul on the other side of the counter, and Marko shaking with laughter beside him.

"Jesus, girl, you've got a thick skull, I think you broke my fucking jaw." Paul complained, rubbing the side of his face.

Missy glared at him. "Your jaw? What about my poor head? I think I've got a concussion." Marko had yet to cease laughing, and Missy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, flushing when she recalled the note he had sent back with her shoes. _"You are interesting." _Marko's eyes shot to hers and she realized that he had stopped laughing, but he was grinning from ear to ear, like he could see what she was thinking about.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she fanned herself to get the heat out of her cheeks. "What are you two doing here?" She hadn't seen any of the boys, Star, or Laddie, in days. Not since she told Marko to tell them to leave her alone. She thought they had taken her demand to heart.

"We wanted to get your autograph." Marko replied, and she turned to him, her brows furrowed.

"Autograph?" She echoed.

"You're famous!" Paul exclaimed, cracking into a wolfish grin and waving a piece of paper in front of her face. She reached up to take it from him, frowning and flipping the page over.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"It's…" It was her face. Another of her school pictures, below it her name, and above it the word 'missing' in big, dramatic letters. It was a missing persons poster. She imagined she could see the word 'wanted' above her picture instead, it certainly made more sense considering the 'substantial' reward Renee was offering for her capture. She felt like an outlaw. "I…" _Forget watching_ _the store, _she thought, coming around the counter and brushing past Paul and Marko. Her body was trembling. "I have to go. I have to-I've got to take them down." She turned back to the stairs. She had to tell Alan if she was leaving, she couldn't just leave the register unattended, what if someone broke into it? Her mind was whirling a mile a minute as she stumbled over to the stairs, what if she couldn't find all of the posters? Or, what if someone found one, and tempted by the reward money, called in before she could get them all down. Her body shook harder, and she clung to the wall to keep from falling over. "A-Alan!" She shouted up the stairway, her voice rising in hysteria the second time she yelled for the elder Frog. "Alan, I need you!"

"Hey." Paul called to her across the room to her, and shakily she turned to look at him. Her face, she knew, had to be whiter than a sheet, and she could feel a light sheen of nervous perspiration breaking out on her forehead. "Don't worry so much." He said, grinning, and Missy wanted to smack the smile off his face. _Don't worry? _She hissed in her head. _DON'T WORRY? Does he have any idea?_

"Don't worry." Marko echoed, firmly.

"Yeah, we got you covered, girl." Paul said, and he reached into his jacket and withdrew a stack of papers about an inch thick.

Missy pushed off the wall, crossing the space between them to better see the picture on the first page in Paul's was her face looking back at her with a smile that was more of a cringe, and it was the same as the one on the missing person poster in her hand. The word 'MISSING' glared up at her and she gasped.

"You…you took them all down?" She received the stack of flyers in her own hand and gaped at Paul and Marko, bewildered beyond any way of explanation.

"All the ones we could find." Marko told her, and when he turned his head to smirk at Paul, she thought they looked proud of what they had done.

"You took them all down." She repeated, trying to let the words sink in.

Paul shifted, frowning now. Missy thought the expression did not suit him at all. "Well, yeah. That's what you wanted, right? I mean, you don't wanna go back, do you?" She wasn't sure why, but somehow, trying to picture Marko and Paul running around the boardwalk trying to find every poster with her face on it, just so Renee wouldn't find her…it made her heart ache, but it wasn't an unwelcome or bad pain. No, it was like using a muscle again that you haven't for a long time, after things have atrophied some. The heart was a muscle, just like any other, and she certainly hadn't been exercising hers lately, not in a long time._ Not since…_

She lurched forward, throwing the arm holding the posters around Paul's neck, using the other to hold his face still so she could kiss his stubbly cheek. "Thank you." She sobbed, tears bursting in her eyes and washing down the sides of her face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you both." Paul didn't react at first, and she couldn't see the expression on his face, but after moment or two of painful awkwardness, he reached up with both hands and rubbed her back.

"Hey, no problem." He whispered, and she rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, glancing past him at the curly-haired boy watching her.

Marko was standing completely still, but then he smiled, and he raised one hand and held it out to her. She broke into another teary, happy grin and reach out to touch her fingertips to his. _Thank you, Marko._ She thought, and he smiled behind his free hand.

"You're welcome."

It didn't take much convincing on their part to get her to agree to go out with them, they had, after all, just done a indescribably sweet thing for her without being asked, and her only condition was that they give her time to make herself a little less scary. …crying looks good on no one. "Be right back, watch the counter, for me? And Marko, watch Paul to make sure he doesn't steal anything. Thanks!" She dashed up the stairs, knocking hard on the brothers' door as she slipped into the bathroom. Alan stuck his head in the bathroom a minute later, and she saw him watching her wash her face in the mirror. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going out." Alan rolled his eyes, but she continued unabated. "I need you to watch the register for me."

"Who's watching it now?" He asked, and Missy bit her lip, looking guilty. "Missy…who's watching the register?"

"Marko and Paul." She replied, bracing herself.

"The bikers?" He shrieked, and she dropped the tube of lip gloss she was holding. "You left your biker boyfriends alone with a drawer full of money?" He ran off, swearing under his breath, and she glared at her reflection in the mirror, calling back.

"Not my boyfriends!"

She waited, and a second later, she heard Alan's voice again. "Whatever! You're insane!" She glanced back to the mirror and giggled quietly. Yeah, she probably was.

She slipped into her room with an outfit, thankfully, already in mind. She retrieved it from her wardrobe, a sun dress that she had purchased the day before. It was a busy, cerulean halter neck number with flowery circles of varying sizes in white, and different shades of blue. The hem fell an inch below her knee, with thin straps that crisscrossed over her bare back. She had loved it when she saw it in the store, and after trying on, and seeing what it did for the color of her eyes, she had bought it. On her feet she slid a pair of flat, white, strappy sandals, tying them carefully so that they wouldn't come undone during the course of the evening.

She made a brief stop in the bathroom to check her reflection and then she was going down the stairs, staring down at her feet to prevent another unfortunate mishap involving her and gravity. She paused at the base, taking a deep breath and lifting her eyes slowly to gauge the reactions of the three males in the room.

Paul reacted, well, typically. He whistled loudly and shouted "Damn, girl!" and she laughed just once._ Thanks Paul._

Marko was smiling, and he reached out to take her hand, twirling her twice so that her dress billowed out. "Nice."

Missy finished her second twirl, grinning big, and realized she was facing Alan. "Well?" She asked, pulling the sides of her dress out and curtseying. "What do you think?"

Alan didn't say anything, but he was glaring over her head at Paul. "Come on." The wiry blonde said, grabbing her around the waist from behind and but it didn't break her focus on Alan.

"Bye Alan!" She ducked her head under the arm Paul slung across her shoulders, waving back at the elder Frog. He didn't acknowledge her, and she chewed on her lower lip, pouting.

"I don't think your little boyfriend likes us much." Paul was grinning like a shark, and Missy frowned up at him_._

"No, I think you're right."

"But you like us again, right?" Paul continued, and Missy thought about it. She had never stopped liking any of the boys. She had been upset, yes, and frightened of what Star and Edgar had said about them, but she had never wanted to stop seeing them. "So why'd you tell us to leave you alone?"

"Huh?" Her head shot up, and she tried to remember if she had said her last thought out loud or not. She didn't think she had.

"Why'd you tell us to leave you alone?" Paul repeated, slowly. "Was it cuz Marko asked you about Seattle?" Missy turned her head at once and glared at Marko.

"You told him what we talked about?" She wasn't sure why she felt betrayed, because she had told Marko outright to tell the others whatever he wanted. Marko just stared at her evenly, and spoke quietly.

"We're brothers, we don't have any secrets." He explained, and Missy blinked.

"Oh." She said. "I didn't know you two were related."

"We aren't." Paul tossed his head, grinning again. "Not by blood or anything, but we're like a family, you know? David and Dwayne and Marko and me."

Missy smiled. She did understand. "And Star and Laddie too." It wasn't a question, to her at least, but she felt Paul stiffen beside her and saw Marko's jaw muscles tighten. _…they don't like Star and Laddie?_

"Laddie's like a little brother to us." Marko ground out, and Missy had only ever seen him looking this angry the last time she had brought up Star.

"Star's David's girl, but, you know, she's not really…" Paul let the sentence hang unfinished, and Missy was left to ponder what he meant.

Silence had never been uncomfortable for Missy before, but she found that it was different when you were stuck between two, unbelievably attractive boys who'd just gone out of their way to help her. She found herself wanting to thank them again and again, but she held her tongue on that account, tilting her head back and sighing up at the night sky. She could still see the clouds, even without the sun, and she figured it was probably going to start raining again soon.

"I don't think it's going to rain." Marko said, and when she turned to gape at him, his head was tilted back to look at the sky too.

"How much of my mind can you guys read?" It was beginning to creep her out. Maybe they were just intuitive, either that or they were incredibly lucky.

Marko and Paul shared looks that were only a little guilty and a lot mischievous, and then Marko looked at her and smirked. "What do you think?"

Missy deliberated for a minute, and then she turned back to them with her brow furrowed. "You tell me."

They laughed, and Missy felt the tension that had been building between them since her altercation with Marko three nights ago shatter into a thousand pieces, scattered by the sound of their joined mirth. She didn't see it, but the two of them exchanged a look over her head, and then Paul reached out and ruffled her hair. "Hey!" She cried, swatting at his hand. "Don't you know you can't mess a girl's hair up like that?" She couldn't believe that he'd never tried to pull that with Star, and Star seemed like the type to tell someone off for something like that.

Paul snorted loud, pulling his hand back and running it through his own, crazy hair. "Like I'd ever put my hand near that rat's nest." Marko looked at him sharply, leaning over to smack him on the arm.

"Don't. You know what David'll do." He said, and Paul slugged him in return on the shoulder.

"You did it first, man, besides, she's not freaked out or anything."

Missy glanced between them, and though they had stopped speaking, she had a feeling they were still communicating. She was quiet for a minute, and then she concentrated and tried to think as loud as she could. _Look at me._ She harbored a secret hope that they wouldn't, but when their heads twisted around to face her before she had even finished the thought, her hands flew up to cover her mouth and she gasped. "Oh my god."

"Shit." Paul rubbed his face and showed Marko a guilty look. "I think we're busted."

"Okay." Missy said, bringing her hands down from her mouth slowly, taking two steps back from the apparent psychics. "Explanation, please."

"Uhh," Paul coughed. "Marko, man, you wanna field this one?"

"This is unreal." Missy ran her hand over her mouth, watching them carefully. "I mean…you guys can read minds."

Marko looked miserable for some reason, and he nodded. "Yeah."

_"_That's…well, it's weird, and I'm not sure what to say, but you probably already knew that because you can read my mind." Missy stopped short, gasping again. "Oh my god! You've been able to read my mind this whole time?"

Paul snickered and Marko just smiled softly. "Yeah."

Missy's mind raced, trying to recall every single thing she'd thought since she'd met the boys, and how much of it was embarrassing.

"I think…" Marko began, quietly. "'Unbelievably attractive' about covers it." Missy paled.

"Or if you want, we could talk about Dwayne's chest." Paul was grinning like the cat who ate the canary, and Missy wanted to hit him soundly for it. "Or how great you think we smell. Or how creepy you think David is."

"Did he…" Missy flushed right up into her hairline. "…he didn't hear any of that did he? I mean, can he read minds too?" Marko nodded, and her stomach dropped. Of all the things she had to be thinking around David, why did they have to be so uncomplimentary?

"David's always listening, so you should be careful what you think around him." Paul told her_._

"Unless Paul's there." Marko interjected. "He thinks so loud, David'd never be able to hear you over him."

"Shut up." They shoved each other, and Missy smiled a little.

"About the whole smell thing." They turned to look at her again, and Marko had Paul in a headlock. "I have to know, what's with that, do you two wear the same cologne or something?"

The two of them grinned at each other, and she felt like she was the butt of another joke. "Or something."

Missy all but whimpered. Her situation had just gotten a lot more complicated. Boys were one thing, but boys that could read minds as well?

"We're not always listening." Marko told her, and Missy raised a brow. "No, really. If we listen in too often, we end up being unable to tell the difference between a person's regular voice and the voice in their head."

"Yeah, like, sometimes we answer questions that people never asked and then they get freaked and then David gets pissed and we have to-" Marko cut him off with a sharp look, and Missy's eyes widened.

"And then you have to what?"

"Nothing." Paul assured her, though she wasn't buying it. He threw his arm around her shoulders and started walking, talking about a band that was playing the open air concert.

"They have one every night during the summer." Marko was explaining, and Missy began to grow nervous.

_A rock concert?_ She liked music as much as the next person, but crowds were never her thing, and mixing in a little loud music and violent dancing? No, she couldn't do it.

"The violent dancing is the best part!" Paul cheered, and Missy half smiled. She didn't think she would ever get used to the mind reading thing. It was still hard for her to believe that such a thing was possible. She'd have to ask Edgar and Alan.

"Don't worry." Marko had leaned in, slipping one arm around her waist and tugging her out of Paul's hold and against his side. "I won't let him drag you down into the mosh pit."

Missy smiled nervously, but smiled nonetheless. "Thanks." She whispered. He just smiled.

The open air concert was worse than Missy had imagined in her worst nightmares. The music was so loud, she couldn't separate music from lyrics, and the air was thick with the smell of smoke and thousands of people sweating to the same beat. "Oh…my god." Paul was bouncing at her side, his hair shaking around his swinging head like it had a life of its own.

"Yeah!" He cried, and Missy was glad that Marko was the one with his arm around her instead of Paul. She was getting motion sick just watching him. "Let's dance!" Paul shouted at her, and Missy slammed back into Marko's chest.

"Oh no. No, no, no power on this earth could make me dance in public." Paul smirked at something over his shoulder, and all of the sudden she felt Marko moving forward, pushing her closer to Paul. "Marko! Don't you dare! I absolutely cannot dance! I can barely walk!" Paul's hands slid around her waist, pulling her hard against his body. "Paul." She spoke breathlessly, staring up into his blue gray eyes. "I'm really not in the mood to dance."

"Don't worry." Paul said, tossing his crazy hair and smirking. "I've got enough mood for the both of us." He started swaying their bodies together, and Missy's face and ears turned bright red. She'd never been pressed this close to another person's body…well, ever. She felt stupid. "Well, you don't look stupid."

Missy was about to argue again when she felt someone's breath, warm and moist against her ear. "Relax." Marko's hands reached out and took hold of her hips, and he moved them for her in a snake like movement. "Dancing is very simple." He whispered against her neck. "Feel the music with your whole body, but just let your hips do all the work, okay?"

"All I feel, is idiotic." Missy hissed back at him, but when he took his hands off her hips to grab her wrists, she found they kept moving on their own.

"Put your hands up here, and try not to be so stiff." He guided her hands up to Paul's neck, and she rested them there, one wrist over the other, and tried not to think about what she was doing. Marko's hands were back on her hips, and both of the boys bodies were very close to hers. Her skin was starting to feel hot again, and she tipped her head back to breathe, and Marko moved in at once so her head fell on his shoulder. She lifted one hand away from Paul's neck and reached back to bury it into Marko's curls, letting her eyes slip closed and the fast music pulse through her entire body.

Was that the drumbeat or her heartbeat? She couldn't tell anymore.

**Thank you for reading.**

**Mm, okay, well. I know this chapter ended sort of…well, abruptly is a good word, just-when-things-were-getting-good is another. Anywhoo, the next chapter is going to pick up where this one left off, so let me know what you think? Too much, not enough? Also, thanks to Lilagirl, my newest reviewer, glad you like the story.**


	12. One thousand, Eight hundred, and Six

_"Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit." _

Chapter Twelve

Missy had no idea what was happening to her.

She'd never been so confused in all her life, and all because of a couple of boys.

Granted, Marko and Paul weren't normal boys. They weren't even normal for cool, slightly dangerous biker boys from a coastal tourist town.

No, Paul and Marko weren't average in the least.

They could read her thoughts, not just hers, but every single person's, and every single one as long as they were listening. No matter how embarrassing her thoughts got, there was no way to keep them out. All she could do was think of the most obscure and random thing she could come up with and hope it threw them long enough to keep them distracted from her mind.

She hadn't know that the boys could read her mind in the first place, if she had, she probably would have turned tail and ran out in front of the video store that first night.

She hadn't known then, and she had continued to not know until around ten minutes ago, and now she was all mashed up between a couple of mind readers. A rocker and a sensitive guy, a biker and a taller biker.

How had she gotten to this place, and why did it feel right when she knew that everything she was doing was so beyond wrong.

There.

Her eyes flew open and she pulled away from the boys, wincing. "Sorry." Those were exactly the sort of thoughts that she needed to learn to censor.

"It's alright." Marko told her, though she thought he looked hurt anyway. Stupid senseless unspoken mean comments. "It's our fault for listening in."

"It's kind of a habit. We just want to know what you're thinking about." Paul said, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. Missy wondered how such a feat was possible, those jeans looked painted on to her. She lifted her eyes and saw that Paul was grinning at her.

Was this something that she could ever get used to? Having her most private and embarrassing thoughts broadcast to a group of people who were still for all intents and purposes strangers to her?

"It was hard for Star at first too." Paul said, and Missy watched him dig through his pockets for something. "She hated it when we read her thoughts."

"Can she read yours?" Missy thought that sounded like a fair way to get back at them.

"Mm, yeah, but she couldn't always." Paul was lighting something that he pulled from his pocket, and Missy recognized the acrid smell as being the same as the one from the Frog parents' bedroom.

"And take it from someone who has to hear those thoughts every second." Marko leaned into her again. "Paul usually says exactly what he's thinking."

Missy didn't doubt that, but that wasn't was she was curious about. "So you guys couldn't always read minds?" _What, so it's like X-Men or something?_ She smiled apologetically at her own thoughts. _Sorry, hazard of living above a comic book store._

"It's not like the comics." Marko said, hiding another smile.

Missy didn't hide her confused look. "So what changed? Did you guys fall into a vat of toxic waste or get bitten by a radioactive spider or something?"

"Or something." Paul snickered, and Marko smacked his arm.

"Don't be an idiot." He hissed at him, and showed Missy an indulgent smile. "David taught us how to do it."

"Wait," she said, more shouted over the pulse and scream of the concert around them that hadn't stopped for their conversation. "David taught you?" How do you teach someone to read minds?

Paul and Marko were silent, watching each other over her head. She frowned up at them, wishing that she was the one who could read minds instead of them. Marko looked angry, but Paul just looked worried for some reason.

"Hello?" She tried, and when they didn't respond, she tried again. _Never listening when I want you to, huh?_

She watched their bodies stiffen in unison, like Marko's had beneath the pier. A minute passed and then they came back to themselves, looking dead at her.

"We have to go." Marko said, and he took her right arm. Paul snatched the opposite arm and the all but lifted her off the ground as they pulled her.

"Wait," Missy cried. "I have to go or you have to go?"

"Both!" Paul and Marko shouted.

Something had happened to send them into a panic, and Missy was sure she didn't want to find out what. She took control of her own feet, her heart pounding in her ears in tune with her feet slapping the ground.

The carousel came into view, and she sighed. _Home's not far._ No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than a familiar cadre of motorcycles, short two, naturally, cut in front of them. Missy met David's eyes and she heard Paul and Marko swear behind her.

"Shit."

"Well, look who it is." David drawled, showing her a cool smile. "We missed you." _I bet you did_. Missy didn't even bother not thinking it, and David laughed softly. "We thought Marko had chased you off for good."

"No such luck." Missy's smile was only a little forced, and David tilted his head at her, a curious look on his face. _One times two is two._ Something flashed in David's eyes, and Missy thought louder. _Two times three is six. Six times seven is forty-two. Forty-two times forty-three is…oh god! What's Forty-two times forty-three?_ Was double-digit multiplication something they covered during senior year? Maybe she should have gone to school more often instead of the park.

Dwayne leaned over his bike's handlebars, boring holes in her with his eyes again, and whispered. "One thousand, eight hundred, and six."

"Oh!" She whipped around and gawked at him. _He knows I know?_ David's eyebrows rose and he smirked.

"Well, now, this is interesting." He turned and smiled at Paul and Marko. "Been sharing, have we?"

"I'm sorry." Dwayne whispered to her again. "Paul thinks really loud."

"So you knew that I knew that you guys could read my mind?" Missy whispered back, though she wasn't sure why, David could clearly hear them speaking.

"I knew." Dwayne said softly.

"But…David didn't?" That didn't sound right. Hadn't Paul said that David was always listening?

"To you." David said, and when Missy turned to look at him, his eyes were cold. "I was listening to you."

Paul moved forward, and David's head shot around to glare at him.

"Be quiet." He hissed, though Paul hadn't said a word out loud, and Missy leapt back. She felt Marko's chest slam into her back, and one of his hands grab her waist. _His eyes changed color!_

"David." Dwayne's voice was quiet, but strong, and Missy thought it looked like he was seconds from getting up from his bike.

David turned to look at Missy again, and she must have looked as terrified and confused as the look on David's face made her feel, because Marko's grip tightened. The amber faded from David's eyes, and while they returned to the icy, pale blue Missy was familiar with, the anger didn't leave them. He was fit to be tied, Missy could see that much, but what Paul had thought to make him so angry, she didn't know.

David was quiet for a long time, and then he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Take her back." He said, and Marko's fierce hold on her relaxed. "Then…" He continued, and Paul shifted, rubbing his face nervously. "…we'll talk."

"Come on." Marko grabbed her hand and started to drag her again, and this time, Missy was too stunned to react. _Talk? Talk about what? Talk about me? What about me?_ "Stop." Marko said without looking at her. "Stop thinking so much."

Missy narrowed her eyes at him, ripping her hand out of his. "Stop listening." He turned around to look at her, his expression pained.

"We don't have time for this, man." Paul was right beside them, and before she could feel either the hand on the back of her knees or the one on her back, she was being lifted right off the ground and into Paul's arms.

"What the heck?" Missy screamed. "Put me down!"

"Hit me later." He said, and they were moving again.

The boardwalk sped past them, colors and light blurring together in Missy's vision. She stumbled when Paul set her down at last out in front of the comic shop, clutching her head and wobbling. "Dizzy." She explained when both Marko and Paul reached for her.

"We have to go. Now." Marko said, grabbing Paul's arm and tugging. "Come on."

"W-Wait!" Missy cried. "David's angry, I get it, but he knows I won't tell anybody, right? You'll tell him? I mean, it isn't like anybody would believe me anyway, your secret's safe with me." She made a zipping motion across her lips. "To the grave."

"Yeah," Paul said. "that's what we're afraid of."

Missy stopped to ponder the meaning of that, and apparently the couple of seconds was enough time for Paul and Marko to book it, because when she looked for them again, they were gone. "Ugh." She threw her hands up and stormed into the comic book store. _My life is not like other peoples'.  
_

Alan looked up when she came through the door, dropping the change he was holding in the customer's waiting hand and raising a brow slowly. "You're-"

"Home early, I know." Missy interjected, running a hand through her hair and heaving a frustrated sigh. Her life was becoming more complicated with the passing of every second that she spent in Santa Carla. She was beginning to miss the quiet simplicity of her old life. The boys had never bother her back in Seattle, and she believed that was probably because they thought she was insane. It had made the news when her mother was hospitalized after her attempt on her life, and again when her mother had taken her own life. She had seen the way her peers at school looked at her. Some with pity, and some like they were expecting her to snap and take them all out with a large caliber weapon. Their scorn had made it easier for her to turn her back on the cold stone walls of her school, hide away from the whispers of 'look!' and 'that's her!'. It was nice to be able to walk down a street without heads turning to follow her.

"You okay?" Alan shut the register drawer and she felt his eyes on her back as she walked to the stairs.

"I'm fine." Missy smiled over her shoulder. "I just felt like staying in tonight after all. You need any help?"

Alan looked like he didn't believe her, but a subtle look from Missy kept him from voicing his concerns. "Yeah, sure." He said. "Get changed and you can help me put the new stock out."

"Great. Be back in a flash." Missy called back, bounding up the stairs and ripping her sandals off her feet as she walked down the hall. She shut her bedroom door behind her, untying the straps around her neck, letting her dress pool at her feet and her mind wander. She stepped out of her dress and opened her wardrobe. Marko and Paul had come clean about their mind-reading without much pressure on her part, but what about the other secrets she knew they were keeping from her? All of the unfinished sentences and surreptitious looks they kept giving each other. What were they hiding?

_"Did you guys fall into a vat of toxic waste or get bitten by a radioactive spider or something?"_

_"Or something."_

She pulled a pair of jeans up over her legs and buttoned them up, frowning.

_"Yeah, like, sometimes we answer questions that people never asked and then they get freaked and then David gets pissed and we have to-"_

_"And then you have to what?"  
_

_"Nothing."_

She remembered the look that Marko had given Paul; the look hadn't said nothing, it had implied volumes about what David would have them do. _Dangerous._ Did she, could she, believe it? Normal people couldn't read minds, and if the boys weren't normal, who was to say their abnormality stopped there? Who was to say they were even human at all?

"Stop it." She told herself, shaking her head. It was ridiculous, but, hadn't she thought the same thing about mind-reading not too long ago? Hadn't she seen David's eyes turn yellow? How did she want to rationalize that one? A trick of the light? Or was it her mind playing the tricks? They did live in a cave, after all. "I'm losing my mind." She whispered, pulling an old, gray Seahawks sweatshirt over her head and untucking her hair where it got caught under the collar.

Maybe she was losing her mind. Rational people didn't, couldn't believe that vampires actually existed, but where did that leave Edgar and Alan? Did that make them as crazy as she was? She had chalked their insanity up to them being a couple of kids who'd read one too many comic books, but maybe they were just plain old crazy.

Or maybe they were right. What if Santa Carla really was crawling with the undead, and David and his boys were-

"You're home." Missy's head whipped around and she stared in shock at her open doorway. Edgar was staring back, and she took one look at his swollen eye and forgot to yell at him for opening her door without knocking. At least he hadn't caught her in her underwear.

"How's your eye?" She asked, and he grunted.

"Alan said you were out with the bikers again." Missy didn't miss the note of disdain in Edgar's voice, but she didn't address it.

"I wasn't feeling too well, felt like staying in." She said, and he nodded. She saw him start to back away, like he was turning to go, and she called out to him. "Edgar, wait, can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" Edgar asked, and she thought he sounded more annoyed than usual.

"What do you know about mind readers?" His face took on an expression of shock.

"Mind readers? Why?"

"I was reading X-Men earlier, just got me thinking, you know, what if?" Edgar grunted and waved a hand at her.

"It's just a comic." He told her, and Missy narrowed her eyes at him.

"I know that." Does he think I'm an idiot? "I just wanted to know if it might be possible, for someone to be able to hear our thoughts."

"When did you get so paranoid?" Edgar questioned her, and she just shrugged.

"Just curious." She could see that Edgar didn't believe her.

"Normal humans can't read minds." He said, turning to leave again.

"What about someone who isn't a normal human? Like a…" She struggled with the word. "…vampire." She said, at last, and Edgar's eyebrows rose.

He snorted. "Didn't you read the comic we gave you?" Missy shifted, uncomfortable.

"Part of it."

Edgar rolled his eyes. "If you'd read it completely, you'd know that reading our thoughts is one of a vampire's strongest weapons against us. It's how they pick out their prey."

_Prey?_ Some part of Missy's mind heard Edgar's footsteps as he left her doorway, but the greater portion of it was devoted to that one word.

Was that what she was to the boys? Food?

She knew about them now, at least that they weren't normal, and David had made it clear that that was something that he wouldn't allow. Would they kill her now?

Whatever David and his boys were, and even if mind-reading was the extent of their abnormality, she would stay away from them. Suddenly Star's warning didn't seem so cryptic. If the boys were monsters, she was only trying to keep her from sharing her fate. _Laddie…_ Her heart broke for the little boy, but if he was already one of them, what was there that she could do for him?

So she would keep away from them, like Star and Edgar had told her to. She slipped her feet into a pair of clear, jelly flats; forcing herself to commit to the decision that she wouldn't ever see any of the boys again. It wouldn't be hard, she told herself. She had practiced avoiding people since she was ten; she was a master of isolating herself. The only difference between then and now, was that then, she had wanted to distance herself from people.

It was difficult for her to resign herself to never seeing the boys again, because even if they were monsters, and she still didn't have proof that they were, they hadn't tried to harm her. Not once in all the times she'd been alone with them. What did that mean, if they were monsters? That they weren't senseless ones, she figured.

Alan met her at the base of the stairs with a heavy box of comics, showing her where to put them, and Missy was thankful for the distraction that the menial task afforded her.

There seemed to be no rhyme of reason to the way the comics were arranged, and that didn't bother Missy. It was mechanical, the way she pulled the comics from the box; angling them toward her face just enough to read the titles, then sticking them out on the shelf. Edgar hadn't spoken to her since their conversation upstairs, and she glanced at him behind the register whenever she thought he wasn't looking, more specifically, at the bruise on his eye. He hadn't let up in his determination to keep the identity of his mystery girl a secret, and Missy knew that Alan hadn't gotten anywhere with his line of questioning either, he would have said something if he had.

Sighing, Missy set the box of comics she was working on down on the floor and wiped her hands over her thighs. "I need a break," she called, making for the stairs. "you want anything, Edgar?"

"Coke." He called back, and she heard the register closing as she climbed the stairs.

Missy was used to seeing the Frog parents down in the shop, never in their bedroom, and so it came as no surprise to her to find the parents' room empty. She moved around the partition to the kitchenette and pulled open the little fridge, selecting a pear and a can of cola for herself and one for Edgar. She ate the pear, quickly, because she had not realized how ravenous she was, and soon she was holding nothing but the core. She tossed it in the trash and carried the soda cans with her to the bathroom, washing her hands in the sink to get rid of the sticky residue left over from the pear.

She could hear heated conversation as she neared the stairs, and she recognized Edgar and Alan's voices because they were familiar to her, they stood out; it was the other voices that did not.

"-you don't know how to treat customers, Eddie, no wonder this shithole gets no business." She crept down the stairs, trying to imagine her steps as feather light every time the steps creaked beneath her weight. She stopped at the second to last step, leaning against the wall that blocked the shop floor from her view and peering out beyond it. Edgar was between two shelves; in front of him an older, larger boy, and beside him, Alan. Beyond the older boy she could see two more, giggling uncontrollably and nudging each other. They reminded her of hyenas.

"You're not a customer, Rick, you're a piece of shit. And it's Edgar." Missy winced. _Rick, huh?_ So he was the one who'd sent Edgar home looking like he'd just called Mike Tyson a sissy. Alan caught her looking and the look in his eyes screamed _Go back upstairs._ She narrowed her eyes and mouthed back. _No way._

"I'm a piece of shit? You watch your fucking mouth, Toad." Rick hissed, and Missy's hands tightened on the cans of cola she was holding. "You got off easy today, talk to me like that again and I'll make earlier look like a fucking dream."

"Get out of my store." Edgar said, quiet, cool, and even.

Rick took a step forward and planted one hand on Edgar's forehead, shoving hard. "Make me."

Edgar stumbled back and Alan scurried forward to pull his brother back. "Edgar!"

"Hey!" One of the boys behind Rick shouted, but Rick didn't get more than the chance to turn around before the can that had left Missy's hand not seconds before bounced off his chest.

"What the hell?" The can slammed into the floor and started fizzing. "Who threw that?"

"I did." Missy stepped out of the stairwell, holding the second can out in front of her like a weapon. "And you better get out of our store, or next time, I'll aim for your chest and hit your head!"

Rick stared at her for a couple of long moments, and the two boys behind him exchanged nervous glances between each other. Then Rick laughed. "This her?"

"I. Said. Leave." Missy stuck her hand behind the counter and yanked out the bat she'd seen Alan and Edgar each chase their share of shoplifters off with.

Rick's eyes ran over her entire body, and Missy was for a single second, indescribably grateful that she'd changed into a sweatshirt. "Not much, is she?"

"Get out." She lifted the bat like she was going to take a swing, and Rick laughed.

"Missy, just go upstairs." Edgar told her.

"He can't talk to you that way, Edgar!"

"Put the bat down, sweetheart, 'fore you hurt yourself." Rick said, and Missy turned to gape at the boy.

"Shit." Alan mumbled, and Edgar took a step back.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Rick was grinning, and the boys behind him were laughing again. "What're you doing hanging out with these losers anyway? You're a stringy little thing, but hey, a cunt's a cunt, right, boys?" The hyenas burst into laughter again and Missy made a sound of disgust.

"Oh my god, and that's supposed to make me, what, swoon? And what are you, fourteen?" Missy shifted the bat to her left hand and pointed it at Rick. "Look, I've had a really bad day, and I'm not in the mood. You're a pig, and even if I were going to date a fourteen year old, _sweetheart_, I think I could do better." She glanced at Edgar and Alan, smiling surreptitiously. "At least they know how to speak to a girl."

Rick snorted, but Edgar and Alan swelled from the compliment. Edgar reached out his hand for the bat and Missy handed it over without a word, moving to stand beside Alan, glaring past Edgar at the hulking Rick. "Get out of my store, Rick. Now."

"You think I'm afraid of you, Toad?" Rick looked seconds from rolling his eyes, but his friends behind him had gone quiet.

"I think if you don't get out of here, I'm gonna give you a reason to be." Edgar always looked serious, but Missy thought he looked deadly serious just then. "And you're gonna keep your mouth shut at school about Missy from now on, you hear me?"

Missy started. _What was that?_

"Whatever, Toad." Rick rolled his eyes at last, and he turned to go. He stopped just outside the door, grinning. "See you Monday, Toad. Later, Sissy."

"Later, Pig." Missy called back, shuddering furiously once the teenager and his friends were gone. "Oh, I could of beat the snot out of him. I hate guys like that." She watched Edgar put the bat back, and she tilted her head at him, looking sorry and curious at the same time. He was adamantly avoiding her eyes, she could see that much, and it wasn't hard to guess why. "Thank you, Edgar." She stepped closer to him, tilting his head up so she could kiss his cheek. "I don't really know what he said about me at school today, but I can sort of imagine. So, thank you."

"Whatever."

There wasn't a single person Missy could name, apart from her father, who'd ever fought for her before. Edgar didn't owe her anything, he didn't have any reason to fight for her. Like Marko and Paul, he'd done something for her, so far beyond what was expected; without knowing that she would ever know about it.

_Marko…Paul._

That was another thing. If Marko and Paul were as dangerous as Star implied and Missy feared, would they have taken all of the flyers with her face on them down?

"Missy?"

Wouldn't they have just let Renee take her back to Seattle?

"Missy!"

Missy snapped out of her head, turning to gawp at Edgar. "What?"

Edgar grunted. "Don't just stare at me, get a mop and clean up that soda. This is a business, you can't just spill something and not clean it up."

Missy half smiled, letting out a short laugh. _Good ole Edgar._ Valiantly defending her honor one second, ordering her around the next. _I guess some things never change._

**Thank you for reading.**


	13. The Lies Our Parents Told Us

**I'm honestly not sure if people even care about this story anymore, but I'm going to continue it nonetheless. Hopefully someone out there is still reading. This chapter is part substance, part filler. The boys will be back in the next chapter (which I will try to post in the next two days), I promise you.**

_"The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story." _

Chapter Thirteen

"_Missy."_

Missy's eyes opened to the sight of her bedroom ceiling, her mind scrambling to shake off the fog of sleep and catch up with her all too conscious body. She sat up, keeping one eye trained on the door as though she expected something unspeakable to be coming through it at any moment. What had caused her to wake so suddenly? A nightmare? She had the strangest feeling, one she couldn't shake, that she hadn't woken at all. She stared across the dark room at her doorway, illuminated by the light from the hall beyond it, and could have sworn that she had closed it before she had laid down to bed.

"_Missy."_

"Alan?" She called, turning sideways on her bed, keeping her eyes trained on the doorway as she slipped out from under her quilt. "Edgar?" She padded across the room, shivering as the cold air covered her bare legs in goose pimples. She figured that either Edgar or Alan must have left a window open somewhere, but that didn't explain the unnatural chill in the air. It hadn't been so cold since she arrived in Santa Carla, it was only April, after all, and she could see her breath, curling out of her mouth like smoke each time she exhaled. _Maybe it's a freak cold front moving in or something._ "Alan?"

_"Over here, Missy."_

"If one of you is playing a joke on me…" She grumbled, tiptoeing down the hall. Her feet slipped into something cold and wet, and she froze. She glanced down at her bare feet, and around them, a growing puddle of water. "Ugh!" She hissed, to no one in particular. "If you flooded the toilet, I am not cleaning it up." She followed the water, grimacing as it led her to the bathroom door. The light that she had seen from her bedroom was coming through the crack under the door, the pool of water illuminated, glowing around her feet.

_"Come here, Missy."_ Her hand found the doorknob and she stopped, trembling. The water she was standing in was ice-cold, her feet were beginning to turn pink, her teeth to chatter. She stared hard at the bathroom door and taking a quivery breath, she reached out for her wrist with her other hand to put a stop to its quaking. An intense feeling came over her then, as though she were stuck in another nightmare, that there was something evil on the other side of the door. Waiting.

For her.

"One." She whispered, her grip tightening on the handle until her knuckles turned white. "T-Two." Her teeth clattered together, and she took a deep breath, rubbing her arm with her free hand to try and warm her frigid skin. "Three!" She gasped, turning the handle and kicking the door open with her bare, wet foot.

No monstrous hands came through the doorway to pull her in, no hideous beast stood waiting to pounce on her; there was just an overflowing bathtub with the cold tap on full blast.

"Ugh!" She rushed to the faucet, grumbling and turning the knob back to stop the flow of the water. "If I find out which one of them left the water running…" She huffed, rolling the short sleeve of her tee-shirt up over her shoulder and plunging her arm into the icy water with a gasp. She fumbled around for the plug, her teeth chattering as her fingers found the chain and tugged.

Nothing.

The plug refused to budge, and when she pulled harder, all she succeeded in doing was dousing her entire front with water.

_"Missy, what are you doing?"_ Startled, she ripped her hand out of the water with a guilty expression that quickly melted into one of irritation.

"What am I doing? Cleaning up the mess one of you two decided to make by running a bath in the middle of the-" she turned around, her eyes fixing on the figure in the doorway as the blood in her veins turned to water icier than the stuff she was kneeling in.

_"Melissa,"_ Missy stared, eyes wide, her shoulders pressing painfully into the side of the tub as she cringed backward. _"just look at the mess you've made." _The figure took a step into the room and the ice in Missy's veins reached her heart at last, stopping it._ "What am I going to do with you?" _

Missy's throat felt like she'd been swallowing sandpaper, and her tongue was all of the sudden a heck of a lot bigger than she remembered it being. "M-…M-Mom?"

It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. _She'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdeaddeaddeaddeaddead. _

_"Missy."_ Her mother, rather, the creature wearing her mother's face leaned down, a smile that was too soft and too warm for its cadaverous face. _"You know you aren't supposed to play with your bathwater."_

"You can't be-" Missy trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. "-you're dead!"

_"Missy!"_ Her mother admonished, tilting her head to the side, which made the unnatural angle her broken neck was at look all the more grotesque. The disapproving look in her mother's glassy eyes did nothing to distract Missy from the ring of hideous bruises on the apparition's throat. _"How could you say such a thing to your mother?"_

"You're not my mother." The creature who resembled the late Marie Van Buren only smiled.

_"Of course I am, why are you talking nonsense?"_ It took a step forward and Missy cried out.

"Stay away from me!" She hissed, trying to sound braver than she felt. "My mother killed herself seven years ago. This is a nightmare, that's all. I'm having a nightmare."

_"Why, you're wide awake, Missy." _The apparition knelt in front of her, so close that their knees were touching. Missy heard the soft squelch the soaked bath mat made under the creature's weight, and felt the unnatural chill of long dead skin against hers. _"You aren't dreaming, it's bath time." _

_Bath time?_ Missy's eyes turned wide, and she shook as hands descended on her shoulders. "No!" She struggled, but her mother's fingers dug in. She was surprised to feel the pain. Dreams couldn't hurt her, and if this, whatever it was, was hurting her, than she couldn't be dreaming. "Edgar! Alan!" She'd never screamed so loud in her life. Her own eardrums were ringing, but the ghost mother didn't seem in the least bit phased.

_"Now, now, quit your caterwauling."_ The pressure on her shoulders increased, bending her backwards until she thought her spine would snap. She could feel the icy water on the back of her head, and she started thrashing.

"NO! Edgar! Alan! No! Somebody! HELP!" Her struggles threw water in her face, and she sputtered and coughed up the frigid water.

_"Shh."_ A tender hand stroked her wet cheek, and Missy started to cry.

"Please…please…"

_"Shh, don't cry, my love."_ The creature placed its hand on her forehead and started to push. _"Mother's here."_

She screamed, for all the good it did her, as her head slipped under the surface of the water. She remembered what the rain sounded like under the lake, she remembered her mother's face as she held her down under the bath water. She remembered how she'd screamed when her father pulled her out, but her father was dead now, and he wasn't coming to stop her this time.

Her chest started to burn, and she couldn't tell if she was crying anymore. She shut her eyes, trying to picture her father's face, Edgar, Alan; she didn't want the last thing she saw before she died to be her mother's face. She thought of the boys, and felt a twinge of sadness for the fact that she would never see any of them again. She'd have settled for David, God help her, as much as he terrified her, he was a thousand times better than this thing.

_"Missy!" _

She wished she could tell mother dearest to give it a rest, she was dying, let her fantasize in peace.

_"Missy!" _

"Missy!"

Her eyes shot open for the second time and it was Alan's face leaning over hers, not her dead mother's; and his hands on her shoulders, shaking her like a bartender mixing a drink. "Stop!" She cried, and he let her go so fast she bounced off the mattress from the momentum.

"You were having a nightmare." He explained, and Missy wanted to hit him.

"So you decided to give me brain damage?"

"I was trying to wake you up." Alan protested, and Missy noticed a stake lying on the mattress between her quilt covered legs. _Figures._ She screamed and they leapt to the vampire conclusion, well, Alan leapt. She figured Edgar was still too miffed about her interrupting his fight with Rick to care about her getting eaten.

"What time is it?" She rubbed at her eyes, trying to erase the image of her dead mother from her mind's eye. Alan lifted her left arm and turned her wrist so he could see her watch. "Eight thirty." Missy snatched her arm back from him and glared. "What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't remember." Alan gave her one of his patented "Like I believe that load." looks and retrieved his stake. "Is Edgar still mad at me?" The elder Frog brother shrugged.

"He's not really mad, he's just sulking because he didn't want you to know that Rick was badmouthing you."

"That's something." Missy frowned. "How did that gorilla even know about me?"

Alan grunted. "News travels. Rick's on the boardwalk a lot, probably saw you, figured it'd be a good way to rile Edgar up."

_Men,_ she thought,_ are easily amused._

"So he's upset that I stopped him from getting his head smashed in?"

"You made it look like he can't defend himself."

"Judging by that shiner he's sporting, he can't. That sounded a lot less harsh in my head."

"It's not your business, Missy, it's his." It was truer than Missy wanted to admit, and so she didn't say anything, but pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her arms on them. "You've got to let him deal with this stuff on his own."

"You're his big brother, it doesn't bother you?" Alan sat down on the edge of her bed and frowned at her.

"Sure it does, and when we were little it was okay for me to stick up for him, but he can take care of himself now. Mostly." Missy laughed a little, and Alan made a face that was something like a smile. "You should be flattered, besides, he got that black eye for you."

"My hero." Missy rolled her eyes, grinning. "I'd rather he not get into fights for me at all. I've had people saying things about me my whole life, I'm used to it. Rick's a punk, I don't care what he says about me." She had to admit, it made her feel all kinds of flattered. Edgar put a whole new shine on the word chivalrous. "I am a little surprised, though, I got the feeling Edgar didn't get on with me all that well."

"That's just how Edgar is." You're not Mr. Smiley yourself, pal. Both of the Frog brothers could use a little polishing, but they were alright, and sweet in their own way. She didn't have a whole lot of room to be judging anybody, she was a crazy runaway from Seattle with no boobs and no parents and the law on her tail. "You need to use the bathroom?"

"Hm?" Missy's head snapped up and Alan gave her one of his looks again.

"I'm going to grab a shower before Edgar gets up and takes up residence styling his hair."

"Alan Frog!" Missy cried, shocked. "That was almost a joke." She could have sworn she saw a smile just then, but like a mythical beast, it was gone before she could be sure.

"I'll let you know when I'm out." Alan said as he lingered in her open door, and she shuddered just a little at the sight of it. "And Miss?"

"Yes?" Missy stopped before she could start thinking about her nightmare again, but she should have figured that was what Alan wanted to talk about. Nothing like a Frog with a bone.

"If you wanna talk about your nightmare, I could-"

"Alan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Right." The elder Frog turned a little red, which looked odd considered his dark complexion, and backed out of her room.

Missy sighed after him, slipping out from under her blankets and wondering if she was genuinely awake. She didn't have the same negative feeling she'd had in her nightmare, and instead of the painful cold she'd felt then, now she was fighting the urge to sweat in the unbearable heat of California. Just thinking about the nightmare made her want to crawl back in bed and never get out again. She hadn't dreamt of her mother in years, and never like that. When her subconscious in the past had brought up memories of her mother, it had been the pleasant ones. Her dreams had never made her so terrified of the woman who'd given birth to her.

If anything, she'd have expected to have another one of her recurring dreams featuring David and his boys as the main cast. Her mother had come from so far out in left field that it'd caught her entirely off guard, and the boys; they were a whole other problem she wasn't prepared to deal with until she'd had a hot shower and gotten something into her stomach.

"Missy." Alan's face appeared in her open door way again, a towel draped around his neck, and his hair damp. How long had she been sitting there thinking? Men and their three-second-showers. "Bathroom's free."

"Right, thanks." A shower would help, she reasoned as she gathered her toiletries and a pile of clothes, hustling into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. She tried not to let her eyes loiter on the bathtub, and nearly avoiding the cold tap altogether.

She had no sooner begun to rinse the suds from her hair then there was a knock on the door. "Who's in there?"

"Missy." She called back, shutting her eyes again and willing Edgar to go back to bed. No such luck, it would seem, because he called again, louder. "What are you doing in there?"

"Why, are you writing a book?" Missy would have rolled her eyes if they'd been open. "Leave this chapter out and make it a mystery."

"Other people have to use the bathroom, you know!"

Missy stuck her head out through the curtain and shouted back. "Go away, Edgar, I'll be out when I'm out!"

She missed what Edgar mumbled under the roar of the water, but she was satisfied that he had given up. She'd half expected him to fashion a battering ram and take the door down. She rinsed her hair as quickly as she could, a little disappointed in herself for not having the heart to make Edgar wait a little longer for being such a grump to her; he had after all, gotten beaten up for her, and she still felt like she owed him something, despite her not having asked him to fight for her in the first place. She wrapped a towel around her body, snatched up her things and dashed back to her bedroom, shouting as she did. "Bathroom's free!"

She took her time getting dressed, drying her hair as best she could with a towel while she tried to decide what she was going to do about her most pressing dilemma. David and the boys were still a problem, she had no idea what David was planning to do about Marko and Paul spilling the beans about their telepathy, and then there was Star's warning. She liked the boys, well, the majority of them, at least. Star was sweet, if a bit strange, and Laddie was darling. She didn't plan on running about the boardwalk telling people that they could read minds, she wouldn't dream of doing anything that would draw attention to them or her. Maybe they hadn't done anything bad to her yet, but did that really give her the right to excuse the bad things they might have done to other people? "Ugh!" What was she even doing? She wasn't supposed to be thinking about them, she was supposed to forget about them.

"My life is not like other peoples'."

She found her favorite Frogs down in the shop, waiting to serve as the perfect distraction from her boy troubles. She'd work herself stupid, and she wouldn't have time to think about the boys. It was such a simple plan. Edgar and Alan didn't seem to notice her presence, and she cleared her throat as loud as was humanly possible, putting on a bright smile that tested the boundaries of her face and chirped a loud morning greeting.

Edgar glanced up from whatever he was doing, took one look at her, and grunted. "You look ridiculous."

"No wonder you're such a lady killer." Missy pulled her shirt away from her body, scrutinizing the light pink fabric covering her midsection. "I think it's cute, don't you think it's cute, Alan?" The elder Frog brother's tan face appeared over one of the shelves, and Missy watched the corner of his lip curl up.

_Guess that's a no._ She crossed her arms over the picture of a cartoon lizard lounging on a beach towel, peering out over his sunglasses with a smile at the words _"Life's a beach."_ printed in banana yellow letters over his head.

"You look like a tourist." Alan told her, implying more with his tone than the simple sentence allowed.

"Well, at least I don't look like I shop at an army surplus store." Missy shot back, letting her arms drop to her sides.

"Better than looking like an idiot." Edgar snorted.

Missy snorted. "Said the pot to the kettle."

"Fine, go out dressed like that, it's not like anybody'd mistake you for a local anyway." Edgar popped the register open and started to replace the money he'd removed from the till the night before. Missy vaguely recalled him grunting something about his not being stupid enough to leave a drawer full of money unattended overnight. "Letting you watch it is dangerous enough.", he'd told her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Missy grumbled, yanking her thick blonde hair up off her neck and twisting an elastic band around it. Up and about for less than an hour and already she was sweating. _Stupid Californian weather._

"Look at yourself." Edgar gestured with a roll of quarters and Missy frowned. She tugged at her tourist's shirt, peering down at her legs, covered in denim rolled up to the knees.

"What's wrong with how I look?" She knew that her legs were too long and too skinny, lacking the definition that made height like hers look good on other girls; and her skin was ghostly white, but it wasn't like Seattle weather afforded her many opportunities to sunbathe. Her shirt was a little hokey, and while the rest of the locals went around on bare feet (on the boardwalk, no thanks), or in shoes that at least showed their toes, her feet were clad in a pair of clunky old sneakers that had once been dark green, but had faded over time to a light, minty green.

She could feel the skin around her hairline prickle as tiny beads of sweat formed in the blistering Santa Carla air, and her hair would soon begin to frizz in the thick sea air, but she'd never been much of a beauty queen anyway.

The loud, jangling of change spilling against metal drew her attention back to the register, and she sharpened her glare at the younger Frog as he lifted his eyes to regard her again.

"You see anyone else walking around half as pasty and bony as you?"

Missy recoiled, fisting her hands in the fabric of her tee shirt as her brows mashed together into a single unhappy groove. "You're a jerk, Edgar." She wanted to believe that Edgar was only saying the things he was saying to make himself feel better after having been beaten up and having his masculinity undermined when she intervened in his fight with Rick, but personal pain has a way of making one forget to be sensitive of the pain of others. "Next time I'll just let you get the tar beat out of you, you stupid, ungrateful ass!"

Missy would have loved nothing more than to rip the stupid novelty shirt up over her head and strangle Edgar with it, but she wasn't half as angry as she would have needed to be to give the Frog brothers a peek at her bra.

She slammed her bedroom door twice as hard as was necessary, then turned and kicked it once for good measure. _Stupid…jerk…don't know…why I bother._ Standing at the foot of her bed in her bra and jeans, she surveyed the collective pile of clothes on the mattress. It was an unfortunate fact of Missy's life that her body was mostly curveless.

It was something that she'd had little practice bemoaning. It had been her experience that people were more put off by her wavering sanity (or lack thereof) rather than her figure (or lack thereof). She was a teenage girl, and her acceptance of her appearance changed with her moods, but generally she tried not to dwell on the fact that she had hips that were too boney, legs that were too long, and a bust that, well, suffice it to say that where the cups (cup sizes maybe) of other girls ranneth over, Missy's ranneth dry.

It had been all too easy for Edgar to get her back up, and the knowledge she possessed of her own flaws hadn't made them any less painful to hear from the lips of a friend. Her grandmother used to say that anger is like fire; easier to start than to extinguish, and Missy accepted that Edgar wasn't going to throw off his sulk after one night, but she'd made the terrible and wrong assumption that he would be mature enough to give her the cold shoulder, not insult her. It served her right for making assumptions, she supposed. Edgar had the fashion sense of a pill bug, anyway, she assured herself as she buttoned herself into a new shirt, a light and silky floral print blouse, sleeveless so she wouldn't burst into flames, and nowhere near touristy enough to offend Edgar and Alan's delicate sensibilities.

Neither of the Frogs paid her attention as she came down the stairs a second time, fluffing her damp hair, the elastic band relocated to her right wrist, her watch occupying the left. Edgar was the first to look up, and he narrowed his eyes at her new shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Walking to the door." She replied, strolling right past the counter.

"Why?"

"That's generally how one gets outside, isn't it?"

"It's Saturday." Edgar stressed, as if she didn't know that.

"Your pointing being?"

"We need you here in the shop." _Well, should've thought of that before you called me pasty._

"When you've decided you want to be civil to me again, I'll help you in the shop. Until then, I'll be on the beach." She paused in the doorway, waiting for Edgar's inevitable response.

"The beach?" He sounded a little surprised. "What for?"

Missy flashed him a smile. "Gotta work on my tan."

**Thank you for reading. **


	14. What Sweet Dreams Are Made Of

**This chapter is dedicated to all of the people who stuck with this story, even after the obscenely long hiatus, but in particular, to one of my newest readers: Verbophobic. Thank you for taking the time to make me feel guilty enough to type faster. I'm having some horrible indecision when it comes to which of my crazy ideas to put it what chapter, and I'm deathly afraid of letting one of the boy slip out of character, but I'm going to pursue this thing to its end, or mine; whichever comes first. As you might've guessed by the beginning of each of my chapters, I am a quotes fanatic. When this story is through, I will cite the source of every quote I used, until then, Google. That being said, I hold the writer of the quote I used for this chapter in such high esteem, that I am not going to wait until the end to give her credit where credit is due. This chapter's quote comes from Santa Carla Sunset's "Original Lost Boys Survival Guide". It's laugh out loud funny, and entirely worth going over to her profile and reading if you haven't already. If you have read it, go and read it again, it's worth it. While you're at it, read her Changing Light series. It's what I read when I'm trying to inspire myself to keep going with this. I write for myself as much as you lot, but honestly, my own desires to finish this story really aren't enough to keep me going. It's you guys, your reviews, that make me want to put myself through this. Also, gonna start using those little line divider things. I'm totally digging them, but let me know if you guys hate 'em and I'll stop using 'em. Enjoy.**

* * *

_"12. If the town's 'Welcome to…' sign has 'Murder Capital of the World' graffito-tagged on the back of it, go back from whence you came. Chances are, it's there for a reason."_

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Missy knew that it didn't take much longer than a couple of minutes for the sun to slip below the horizon, but like waiting on a pot of water to boil, watching it made it seem a heck of a lot longer. Her grandmother used to say that waiting only makes the wait seem longer. As a child, not a lot or what her grandmother would tell her would make a lot of sense (how could you wait without waiting?), and to be honest, growing older hadn't made them any easier to understand. To this day she'd only managed to successfully decrypt about half of her grandmother's proverbial expressions, but the fact of sunsets was that although they were beautiful, they were about as interesting to watch as grass growing.

Missy knew that there were twenty-four hours in a day, twelve of them spent in light, and twelve in darkness. The night never seemed to last as long as the day, which, when you're a child, lying real still and quiet in your bed so the big man in red and white wouldn't know you were pretending (which, according to the lyrics, didn't make a lick of difference since he "sees you when you're sleeping" and "knows when you're awake"), was a wonderful thing. She could remember appreciating the seeming brevity of the night when she would lie awake in bed, hiding beneath her covers and trying not to think about how much the shadows on her walls looked like waves on the water, just waiting to sweep her under for good. The morning could never come soon enough then, but in a town like Santa Carla, that came alive after the sun went down, the moon couldn't rise quick enough to suit her liking.

But come the night did, taking its own sweet time as it was wont to do, and when the lights came on, it was easy to see why runaways were so attracted to Santa Carla. The boardwalk crawled with life in the day, people bustling about like bees in a hive, but night was when the town really shined. There were more children during the day than she could remember seeing on any evening she'd spent in Santa Carla, shuffling about with handfuls of cotton candy and faces covered in confectioner's sugar. She assumed that the lack of infantile presence at night had something to do with the alarming number of young faces on the missing persons board. She didn't blame the parents one bit. If her father could see what she was up to, staying out all night, shacking up with a pair of teenage boys who fancied themselves vampire hunters, and staying out all night with a bunch of rowdy bikers, who just so happened to be mind readers? He'd turn over in his grave.

Then he'd turn over a second time if he could see that she'd been sandwiched between two of said bikers (at a rock concert), pressed so close you couldn't fit a piece of saran wrap between them.

The memory came swift and vivid enough to bring red into her cheeks, and she rubbed her skin viciously, trying to force the color out of her face and back where it belonged.

_Stupid. _

Missy didn't know much about romance outside of what her classmates read aloud from their trashy dime novels. She didn't exactly believe that fictional literature was anything to go forming ideals on, but the other girls her age seemed to buy into it, and it wasn't like any of them had guy troubles. They had perfected blushing and swooning, and mastered heaving bosoms and fluttering eyelashes, but Missy wasn't going to make a fool out of herself, even if that was what it took to get a date. It wasn't like any of the boys attending her school were all that interesting anyway. A good lot of them were too cruel to people who didn't honestly deserve it -namely her- for her to be attracted to them. Besides, any book sporting a cover with a swarthy, bare-chested man in a loincloth and a ridiculously euphoric looking airhead swooning at his feet (as well as the title 'The Maiden's Lust', good lord.) shouldn't be taken all that seriously in the first place.

Furthermore, the author who thought that 'The Maiden's Lust' was a suitable title for a book, as well as the editor who allowed the god-awful thing to reach publication, should both be shot.

"I think I've read that one." Missy tried not to jump, but sand amplified sound as well as an old hardwood floor muffled it. It didn't help that Dwayne made about as much noise as a loaf of bread when he walked.

She glanced away from the rolling black waters of the Pacific, staring pointedly at the dark haired boy's dirty sneakers. She wished that she could think of something to say to him. She wanted a way to tell him how angry she was with him for getting Paul and Marko in trouble for letting their little secret slip, but she knew she'd be no good at speaking if she looked at him. Something about the way Dwayne looked at her made her tongue tie up tighter than a sailor's knot.

It had been an accident what happened with Paul and Marko, besides, and she'd made most of the deduction on her own. They'd assisted her, that's all. They hadn't done anything wrong.

"David sees it differently." Dwayne hadn't moved any closer than a foot from where she sat, folded onto the sand so she could feel it cooling through her jeans. He remained standing, and she found herself craning her neck to look up at him. Oh, but he was handsome. Dark everything, bare chest, and smoldering bedroom eyes. And that hair? Hand him a loincloth and they could reenact that trashy novel. She heard a sound she wasn't familiar with, and she realized that Dwayne was laughing at her. "That would make you the swooning airhead maiden, wouldn't it?"

Missy glared at him. "I didn't know you were funny."

The smile faded, and Dwayne didn't say anything as he lowered himself onto the sand beside her. Good Lord. He could make opening a jar of pickles look attractive. "I'm also sorry." He said after the interlude, and Missy made a pout. He wasn't supposed to apologize. It would be too easy to forgive him if he did that. It was too much work staying angry with him. "If it makes a difference," he went on to say. "David would have found out on his own, eventually. He's smart."

Missy didn't know what to say to that. She knew David was clever, and charismatic, and maybe even cruel. He scared her and he confused her.

"David has that effect on people."

Missy ignored that Dwayne had been blatantly reading her mind again and reached between them to retrieve her sneakers and socks. "Did he and Marko and Paul talk?"

"Yes." Dwayne watched her shake her socks, scattering the bits of sand that clung to them before pulling them on. She slipped her left foot into her left shoe and started to do the laces up.

"Did David send you here to "do me in"?" She pulled on her right shoe and tied it tight. "Make sure I wouldn't squeal?" Dwayne made a sound like a laugh and a snort.

"If that were the case, he would have come himself." That was…unsettling.

Her discomfort must have showed, because Dwayne reached over and draped his arm across her shoulders. "Relax." He told her, and Missy thought he was expecting a little much of her, all things considered.

"So, does that mean we're okay now? David's okay? With my knowing what I know, and all? I won't tell anyone." People thought she was crazy without her going out of her way to give them a reason to, she wasn't going to be going around bragging about telepathic bikers any time soon.

"Yeah, we're okay." Dwayne jostled her with the arm her had wrapped around her and gestured with his chin at the bright lights of the boardwalk in the distance. "You know, I think you still owe me a funnel cake."

Missy smiled. "I guess I do, huh?" Quicker than the time it took her mind to process what he was doing, Dwayne was on his feet, tugging her up like she was a rag doll instead of a hundred-something pound person. "Yeesh," she mumbled. "could I get a little gentleness here, please? I'm a girl, not a football." She brushed herself off, muttering an exasperated "Men." as she did. Dwayne didn't comment on that, securing an arm around her waist to help her across the treacherous sand before she could and she quoted "Hurt herself."

"I can walk just fine, you know." She huffed, swiping at her bangs and fixing the biker with a look that was meaner than a grizzly.

"I've seen very little evidence of that."

"Ass." She grumbled, adjusting her gait for the switch from sand to boardwalk, and trying to look a little less flustered by her close contact with the dark-eyed telepath. So far her plan to avoid the temptation the boys' presence presented, to avoid the boys themselves, was succeeding about as well as using a washcloth on Niagara Falls. So much for Operation Out of Sight, Out of Mind. She couldn't hope to forget about the boys just by pretending they weren't there.

A strange look passed over Dwayne's curiously impassive face, like a stone had been tossed into the placid waters that were his countenance, creating there a brief violent ripple of unhappiness.

Missy narrowed her eyes instantly. "Serves you right." She said.

"What's that?"

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Dwayne, you never end up hearing anything good about yourself. Besides, your mind is supposed to be a safe place where you can think whatever you want without fear of consequences. Dreams and thoughts should be personal, Dwayne, and I know you guys can't really help being able to do what you can do, but can't you at least try to give people, me, a little privacy?" Dwayne kept them moving, and didn't remove his arm, and Missy felt her face getting a little hot. "Besides, I thought you guys had trouble telling a person's head voice and out loud voice apart if you listened in too much?"

Dwayne kind of smirked. "You think a lot, loudly. I couldn't resist."

Missy frowned. She had a loud mental voice? "You can't tune me out?"

Dwayne shrugged. "I could try, but being around you is a lot like being around Paul." Groan. "You project, just like he does. It's almost impossible not to pick up on it."

"I'll try to have less obnoxious thoughts."

Dwayne nodded a little, and she could see him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want to avoid us?"

_Busted. _"That's…a really big can of worms I don't really want to open, Dwayne."

"I'm curious. You wouldn't be if someone was avoiding you? You wouldn't want to know the reason why? How would you feel?"

Missy felt like telling him that she knew exactly what that felt like. She'd been avoided by people her whole life. Her mother. Her father, on occasion. Renee, naturally. Her teachers. Her classmates. She was practically a celebrity in Queen Anne, except more infamous than famous. She was "That Girl", the one people crossed the street to avoid. Just in case. People had walked on eggshells around her since she was a child, no one wanted to be on the receiving end when she finally snapped, just like her mother had.

"What about your mother?"

Missy felt like screaming. She ripped herself out of Dwayne's hold, whipping around to give him a hot glare. "I already told you to stop that."

"Maybe you should be a little more careful about what you think around us, Missy. You know what we can do." Dwayne's voice was low, and just a little menacing.

"What 'we', Dwayne? You hear yourself? You sound like a creep talking like that. And I can think whatever I like, it's my head."

"What did your mother do?"

"God, you're like a dog with a bone!" Missy hissed. "Just leave it, I don't want to talk about that with you, it's none of your business."

"I could take it right out of your head if I wanted to." Dwayne whispered, and Missy's whole body felt like it had been submerged in ice water.

"You can do that?" Her voice was trembling, and Dwayne's dark eyes scared her more than they ever had before.

"The listening in we usually do? It's like a reflex, we don't really put much effort into it, just filter through the thoughts sitting on top. We can pick our way through every thought you've ever had if we want to, dredge up every painful memory you've ever endured, every thing that's ever made your heart skip a beat and your blood turn cold." Dwayne took a step forward and Missy stumbled back to avoid him. "What do you say, Miss? Wanna found out what really scares you?"

"You do." Missy whispered. "This is exactly why I wanted to avoid you. I don't want this. I don't want to be scared, confused. I've got enough problems, more than I know how to deal with, and I don't need you and the rest of your crazy friends playing mind games with me." The stability of her mind was tentative enough as it was, and the thought of Dwayne or any of the boys poking around up there made her sick with fear. "You go from normal to psychopath in about three seconds flat, and I don't know how to deal with that. What do you want from me, Dwayne? You want me to be scared of you? Okay, you got it. I'm terrified. I'm so afraid of you, I have nightmares. You want to drive me crazy? Congratulations, there. Last night I had a dream about a woman who's been dead for seven years. I can still feel her grabbing me, Dwayne. How's that for crazy?"

Dwayne was silent. It was a good look for him, but it drove Missy crazy. She needed him to say something or she was going to end up going to jail for trying to strangle him to death. "I lied to you before." He said, at last, and Missy might've been relieved were it not for the admission.

"Lied? About what?"

"David did send me to make sure you wouldn't talk."

That…was unsettling. "What…what exactly did he say?"

"He told me to talk to you. Make sure you understood how much our secret means to us."

Missy swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry throat. "And what if-"

"I think the words you're looking for are "By any means necessary"."

Something occurred to Missy then, something that hadn't before. "…where are Marko and Paul?" One thing about the boys was more or less static, where one or more of the boys went, the others tended to follow. She'd only been alone with a single one of the boys on a couple of occasions.

Dwayne's eyes flashed, and his glare darkened. "Grounded."

"Grounded?" You grounded a child, you didn't ground an adult.

"They knew what they were doing," Dwayne said. "what David would do to them when he found out. They brought it on themselves."

"That's pretty cold coming from someone who's supposed to be their "brother"." Missy narrowed her eyes right back at him.

"I told them to leave it be. To forget about you. They didn't listen."

"Why would you tell them that?" Missy felt a little stupid for feeling hurt by what Dwayne had said, but that didn't change that she was.

"I don't want them getting too attached to you. We don't meet a lot of girls that end up sticking around, and I don't want them getting hurt when David says they can't see you anymore."

"God, what are you guys, a cult? David says 'Jump.' and you all say 'How high?'"

"You don't understand us, Missy, and that's good. The more you know about us, the more involved you become, the more dangerous it is for you. You're a nice person, so I'm going to make this really clear for you. David doesn't like it when people get too close, bad things happen to good people when David gets upset. So what you need to do to keep David nice and happy, is go back to the Frogs, pack your bags, and go back to Seattle."

"…I'm sorry, my train of thought just derailed. Did you just tell me to go back to Seattle?" Oh, if blood could boil.

"There's a reward, isn't there? One phone call, you'd be back in Seattle by this time tomorrow."

For a single moment, Missy wished that looks could kill. Dwayne would have been ashes just then. "Death first."

Dwayne took a step closer, and Missy was so furious that she couldn't begin to think of moving away. She stared at Dwayne with more hate in her eyes than she ever thought she could hold in her skinny body. She'd been angry with Renee before, hated her for tormenting her, hated the people in Queen Anne who made her feel like a freak, hated her mother for killing herself and trying to drown her, and hated her father for leaving her alone with Renee. She'd felt all kinds of hate, but the hate she felt for Dwayne, an almost perfect stranger, it frightened her. If he had any idea what life in Seattle was like for her, he wouldn't be so quick to want to send her back. "What's so bad in Seattle, Missy?"

"Go to hell."

"What are you willing to die for?"

Missy'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in her life, except perhaps for the couple of seconds before she'd walloped Renee with a vase. "Whatever your real reasons for doing this Dwayne, I don't care, but you better be willing to kill me when the time comes, 'cause I'll die before I let you make that phone call. I'm not going back to Seattle. Better off dead than with Renee."

"That so?" It was the last thing Missy need just then, but in the fashion of how things worked when you were having a really bad day, that last thing came along to push you over the edge, whether you wanted it to or not.

"I don't need this right now, David."

She didn't need to look to know where David was behind her, she could hear the bangles on Star's wrist jingling as she shifted beside him, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. "David, you said-"

"Be quiet, Star." David didn't raise his voice, he didn't have to. Star whimpered so pitifully that Missy wanted to wallop _him _with a vase.

"Don't talk to her like that." Missy turned her back on Dwayne, madder than a hornet, to glare at David. Now, she was well aware that David hadn't done anything to get her so riled up, that had been all Dwayne; but David should have just kept his stupid, smug face out of her business with Dwayne. Really, she didn't know what she was going to do about Dwayne. He was bigger than her, stronger, without a doubt. If he wanted to call the police, he'd call them, and she'd be no more an obstacle to him than a flea was to a dog. "She's got a right to talk if she wants. It's not the Dark Ages, women are allowed to have opinions now, David."

David ignored that, smiling so calmly, you'd have thought she'd asked him about the weather. "You're awfully eager to shuffle free the mortal coil, Missy. Tell me, why the death wish?"

Missy jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Dwayne. "It wasn't any of his business, and it's none of yours."

"Might it have anything to do with the death of your parents?" Yowch, bulls-eye. "You were so young when your mother hanged herself, after all, and your father, how guilty you must have felt, asking him to go out on the errand that resulted in his death."

"Bastard!" Missy had lunged before her brain had the time to pull out the great big sign that said "DON'T DO IT, KID!" She couldn't see beyond the angry red haze that had fallen over her, and all she could think of was swinging at David's grinning mug until _he _couldn't see through a haze of his own red blood. As it turned out, Dwayne's reflexes were phenomenally better than her own, and his arms snaked around her waist before she could get more than a few inches closer to David. "Bastard!" The only way she could have looked more rabid would have been if she'd been foaming at the mouth.

"Calm down." Dwayne whispered in her ear, his voice breathy and urgent. "Right now. You don't want a fight with David, just relax. Come on, look at me." He held her still with one arm, grabbing her face with the hand of his free arm and turning her away from David. She could feel his fingers digging into her skin, hard enough to bruise, but all she could think about was what David had said.

"He was in my head." She hissed, both of her hands gripping the front of Dwayne's jacket, fisting the worn material.

"There's nothing you can do about it, you can't fight him. He'll kill you." Star was speaking in her ear then, and she felt one of the girl's hands on her back. "Dwayne, let's get her home." Missy wanted to argue that she couldn't go home because she and Edgar were still on non-speaking terms, but she didn't exactly know if they were speaking yet, she had been avoiding him all day, after all. "Your friend will be happy to see you. I'm sure he's been worried about you all day." Star was telling her, having hooked one arm through hers and begun to lead her away.

Star clearly did not know Edgar Frog.

Worried? About her? Ha. Worried about not getting to watch her meet her hideous end, perhaps. Worried about not getting to standing over her bloodless, bite-marked corpse and sing "I told you so"? Way more likely. She'd have to settle for coming back from the dead and haunting him every time he went to the bathroom. Maybe she'd go Poltergeist on his rare comics; dog-ear the pages and tear out important pages. Oh, she already felt better.

* * *

Alan almost dropped the change he was holding when he spotted her, his eyes going so wide the whites of his eyes stood out like beacons in his tan face. "Edgar!"

"What?" The gruff voice -too gruff for a kid Edgar's age- came back from the back room.

"Get out here!"

"Don't make a scene, please." Missy pleaded. "I don't want to fight with him right now, I just want to go upstairs."

"He feels really bad about what he said, Missy." Alan said, coming out from behind the register around the same time Missy could hear Edgar setting down whatever it was he was working on in the back. "Just let him apologize, it'll make you both feel better."

"I told you he'd be happy to see you." Star leaned forward to whisper happily in her ear, swaying at her side with an ear-to-ear smile on her face.

_Oh, just shush, you. _Missy glared at her, but stood still while Edgar shuffled out of the back room looking miserable. "Missy." He began, nodding at her.

"Edgar." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Cut the monosyllabic bullshit and just tell you're sorry for being a jackass, Edgar." Alan folded his arms too, glaring at his brother and their tenant.

Edgar grunted and tossed her a bundle that had been wrapped in old newsprint. Why he had the old newsprint to begin with, she really wasn't sure, but she was a little intrigued by the gift nonetheless. "What he said."

"I'm touched." Missy replied as she slipped two fingers under the package's seam, ripping the old paper straight up the middle. She let the wrapping fall and what she ended up with was a folded piece of electric teal fabric. It was a tee-shirt. She held it up, and the words that glared up at her in hot pink letters made her laugh so hard she couldn't breathe.

Don't Hassle Me…I'm Local.

"Is she okay?" Star asked, looking wide-eyed at Edgar and Alan.

Edgar grunted. "It's a thing she does, she'll stop soon." Missy's whole face had turned an unattractive shade of red and she was relying solely on Dwayne's shoulder to remain upright. Edgar raised an eyebrow. "…or she'll pass out."

* * *

Missy knew it would take a couple of minutes before she would have enough air to thank Edgar properly, so instead she hugged him, and Alan, and then dragged Star up to her bedroom where they could talk in peace. Dwayne followed, standing in the far corner of her pastel colored bedroom and looking more out of place than a whale in the Smithsonian.

"I can't believe you live with them." Star had folded herself onto the foot of Missy's bed, tucking her feet up under her long, tiered skirt. "I mean, they seem nice and all, but they're kind of weird."

Missy snorted. "You live in a cave with four nocturnal bikers and a ten year old boy."

"…I see your point."

"Face it, Star, we live incredibly weird lives." Missy set her new shirt on the end table beside her bed and reclined against the headboard.

They passed a few moments together in silence, with Missy watching Dwayne make his way over to her bare, bare bookshelf, and Star looking like she had something she wanted to get off her chest. "Missy, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the things Dwayne said to you."

"Did I miss something?" Missy blinked twice, slowly. "Shouldn't the dark, shirtless one in the corner be doing the apologizing?" She gestured to Dwayne, who was leaning against the door that led to Edgar and Alan's room, leafing through her copy of Dorian Gray.

"He only did it because I told him to." That was a new one. "I didn't want you to end up like me so I asked him to say things to you that would make you not want to be around us anymore."

Missy knew she was missing something, but she also knew that if she asked, Star was just going to go "Oh, Missy, I can't tell you!" and look like a whipped puppy. Curse her for being so curious. "What do you mean by "end up like you", Star?"

Star affected a look like Missy had just slapped her. _And three, two, one._

"Oh, Missy, I can't tell you."

Bingo.

"Right, Dwayne, can you tell me, or have you been sworn to secrecy as well?" Dwayne looked up from his book and leveled his gaze at her. "Right, secrecy, I get it. Want to do charades? Hangman? I could start guessing, if you'd like."

"You don't want to know, Missy." Star reached up and tucked a section of her curls behind her left ear. "It's safer if you don't."

"Right, that makes a whole lot of sens-Dwayne, put the money back." Dwayne didn't look the least bit self-conscious standing there holding her copy of Wilde in one hand and her hidden stash of money in the other.

"There's a lot here, you have a job?" Missy pointed at the bookshelf and Dwayne set the money back down. Missy made a mental note to count it later.

"I help out in the shop sometimes." She neglected to mention that Edgar and Alan never paid her for working in the store, since that was part of their agreement in making her rent so low.

Dwayne set the book back down and turned to face her, looking awkward in his leather jacket, jeans, and dirty sneakers. "Why do you only have one book on your shelf?"

"When I left home, I could only take as much as would fit in a backpack. Dorian Gray is my favorite book, I couldn't leave it behind." Dwayne's smile was almost invisible to the naked eye, but it was there.

"Are these your parents?" Star's voice, as well as the shifting of the mattress beneath her, drew her attention back to the brunette. She had stretched across the bed and picked up the silver framed picture, oddly enough, Missy noticed that she had wrapped one of the scarves hanging from her tank top around her hand before reaching out to grab the frame.

"Yeah." Missy whispered, reaching up to finger her locket. She flicked it open to show the picture to Star, the same as the one in the frame she held. "It was their wedding day."

"They look really happy." Star's smile was sad and sympathetic.

"They probably were, it was before I born." Neither Star nor Dwayne laughed at the joke.

_Tough crowd._

"David said your mother killed herself. I'm sorry."

"It was seven years ago, it's okay." Missy pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"You had a dream about your mom last night, though, didn't you?" Dwayne asked, and Missy wished that she hadn't told him that.

"Yeah." She mumbled, hiding behind her hair a little.

"Was it a nightmare?" Star whispered, as though the nightmare ghost of Missy's dead mother might overhear.

Missy stared at her for a minute, feeling stupid for answering the question. "Yeah, Star, it was."

"She tried to drown you." Dwayne said. It wasn't a question.

"Dwayne." Missy began, sighing. "I only want to have to ask this of you once more, please, please stay out of my head."

"Oh, Missy." Star looked as though she could have wept at any moment. "What a horrible dream that must have been."

"…Dwayne was talking about real life, Star. My mother tried to drown me in a bathtub when I was eight."

Star's hands flew to cover her gasping mouth. Cue pity, in three, two- "Oh, Missy!"

"Don't." Missy leapt off the bed like she'd been burned, snatching the picture frame from Star's lap and placing it face down on the end table. "Just don't."

"Oh, but-"

"Star." Dwayne shook his head a little, and Star blinked away the mist that had formed in her big brown eyes, but didn't try to speak again. Dwayne glanced up over Missy's head at the cross on her wall, and Missy thought she saw him shudder. "You're not going to go off and try to attack David if we leave you alone, are you?"

"My homicidal urge has passed, thank you."

Dwayne smiled. "Good, then we're leaving. Star."

Star rose from the bed and smoothed down her skirt, giving Missy one of her patented sad puppy looks. "Would it be alright if I brought Laddie by tomorrow night to see you? He wasn't feeling too well tonight, so he stayed home with Paul and Marko. But if he's feeling better, I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Missy smiled and nodded. "Sure, not like I have any plans tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Missy." Star disappeared out the door with the sound of swishy fabric and clanging metal, and Dwayne hesitated only a moment after her. Long enough to give Missy a long, searing look.

"Remember what I said earlier?"

It was Missy's turn to shudder. "Are you going to call the police?"

Dwayne sighed, or exhaled, Missy wasn't sure. "No. Just keep in mind what I told you. You say you'd rather die than go back to Seattle, I just hope that's what you really want. Dying isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Before Missy had time to contemplate that, Dwayne was gone, and Missy flopped back onto her bed and groaned. Her life was getting less and less like other peoples' every second. _Ugh. _

* * *

Consciousness bled into sleep, and sleep bled into dreams. Dreams that once again straddled that blurry line between dream and nightmare, pain and pleasure, heaven and hell.

Missy watched as the horses on the carousel, which, in the seconds that had come before, had been still, came alive now in front of her. They huffed and snorted, and she would have sworn with her hand on the bible that she could feel the moist puffs of their breath on her skin as they lunged at her, trying to rip and claw their way free of the poles that bound them to their revolving prison. She knew she was dreaming, had to be, carousel horses were wood and metal, they couldn't move except for the ones who functioned on moving gears. Still, she tried to run through them, their blunt, carved teeth tore into her skin, blood welling to the surface from the wounds and staining her once pristine nightshirt. She saw the blood, felt it wet and hot on her skin; she could smell it, taste it on the air, like sucking on a penny. She stared at her sticky hand, coated on the backside with congealing red, and when she blinked her eyes, it was all gone. She glanced around at the frozen statues on their poles, and down at her unmarked flesh, and it was as though it had all been in her head after all.

Maybe she really was losing it. And fast.

The lights buzzed and flickered around the carousel, growing dimmer with each of the rotations, threatening Missy with darkness. A loud electric fizz reached her ears and she whipped around in time to watch the bulb farthest from her pop and go out. Her hand came up to clutch absently at her front, pressing hard as though the pressure might keep back the organ she feared was set to beat its way right through her breast. She heard the hissing of another bulb, straddling the chasm between existence and nothingness, and then it too went black, spilling down into the chasm. "People and lights." She whispered as three more lights blinked out, bringing the blackness closer to her. Dream or no dream, she knew had to stay in the light. She was safe in the light.

The music turned slow and sour, like a warped record, and as the distance between her and the dark shortened, Missy ran. She tore her way through the maze of equines, slipping past their gnashing teeth that sought her flesh and all around her she heard the wind whistling, and in the dark on the wind, laughter. For a moment, the laughter paralyzed her and she jerked to a stop, wobbling uncertainly on her own feet as she craned her head to listen.

_"Missy." _Her heart stopped. It was only for a second, but the sickly quiet in her chest during that single, excruciating moment was enough to get her moving again, her bare feet striking the carousel platform hard as she ran. _"Missy."_"No!" She screamed into the wind, but the calling did not cease.

_"Missy. Missy. Missy. MISSY. MISSY. MISSY."_Her heart's erratic rhythm filled her ears and she trembled to the beat, stumbling away from the dark and toward the last vestige of light. She tripped, landing hard on her hands and knees as the last light blinked out above her. The darkness swelled over her head and she squeezed her eyes knew this dream, she knew what came next.

_"Missy." No, _she told herself. She wouldn't look. _"Missy." _The voice came louder, and a rough hand cupped her jaw, forcing her chin up. Her eyes, by consequence, followed.

She wished they hadn't.

The wall of moisture shattered in her eyes and her tears traced silvery paths down her face. "David." She whispered. Through the sheen of liquid that blurred her vision she could see the dark figures beyond him, and she blinked hard to bring the shapes into focus.

She met Dwayne's sable eyes, and she flinched from the emptiness, the sheer void of emotion there. "Don't do this." She tried to slip out of David's hold, but like a constricting snake, her struggle only made his grip tighten. His hands were like vices on her upper arms, squeezing her flesh until she couldn't stand it and cried out.

Paul, who wouldn't meet her gaze before, jerked and stared at his leader with an uncharacteristically tortured expression. "David," he took a step forward but Dwayne grabbed him by the scruff, yanking him back.

"I'm sorry, Missy." Marko told her, and she thought that the sadness in his eyes seemed genuine. For good reason, they both knew what was going to happen.

David 's mouth brushed over her throat, and her muscles coiled up tight like a spring. "Don't let him." She choked, and she felt David's lips slide back from his teeth in a smile against her skin.

Dwayne didn't move, but the fingers of his left hand twitched like he wanted to reach out. "Forgive us." He whispered.

"Paul?" Missy choked out, her hands coming up to push at David's immovable chest and shoulders. It was like trying to pierce a boulder with a feather. She felt him shake with cruel laughter. "Marko?"

"Miss," Paul whispered, and it was then that Missy noticed that the music had stopped completely. The carousel's rotation had ceased, and they were still and frozen in the dark. "Just…close your eyes." Paul said, and she felt David's teeth rake, feather light over her skin. She might have laughed, had the situation been different. David trying to be gentle.

She shut her eyes and felt David's mouth open over her skin again. He began to bear down on her neck with his teeth, and it was when the pressure became too much, and his teeth threatened to slice through the delicate surface of her throat that she awoke.

She didn't make a sound as she sat up in her bed, sick and frightened, but cautious of waking Edgar and Alan. The walls were paper thin, or so Alan claimed, and Edgar had ears like a hawk. Her skin felt cold and clammy, like a fish, or how she imagined an old corpse must feel. She thought about trying to make it to the bathroom in case she was sick, but after her nightmarish encounter with the ghost mother the night before, she didn't want to go near there.

She pulled her damp hair away from her neck, examining the smooth, unmarked skin for the bites she knew she would not, but feared she would find. She knew she wouldn't find sleep again, not after a dream like that. So she sat in the middle of her bed, shaking and hugging her pillow, with the stake Edgar and Alan had given her lying in her lap. "Get a hold of yourself, Melissa." She told herself harshly. "There's no such thing as vampires, there's no such thing as vampires, there's no such thing as-"

A loud crashing sound startled her out of her chanting, and she started to quake on the spot. It sounded like it had come from the parents' bedroom. Was someone breaking in? All she had was a stupid stake to defend herself, what if the robber had a gun, or a knife?

Mustering as much bravery as she could, she tucked the stack into the elastic band of her underwear and tiptoed out of her bedroom and to the top of the stairs. _Please don't creak, please don't creak. _She willed herself to weigh less as she crept down the stairs, and over to the cash register where Edgar kept a baseball bat stored under the counter for emergencies. She didn't even stop to think how unusual it was for someone to be breaking into the second story window that faced out into the alley next to the comic store, rather than breaking into the first floor, where the front door and cash register were. She was too scared to think logically.

She made her way to the room that housed the sleeping parents of the Frog brothers, praying that the robbers hadn't hurt them in the time it took her to fetch the bat. As she tried to work up the courage to open the door, she heard a muffled voice on the other side.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Missy steeled herself and twisted the knob with her left hand, holding the bat close to her side with the other. _One…two… _She held her breath and pushed on the door, releasing the knob as it swung inward. She slipped into the room, squinting her eyes and willing them to adapt to the darkness in the room faster. She could see the Edgar and Alan's mother and father, passed out from whatever else they had taken that evening in addition to marijuana.

Missy's hand groped along the wall behind her, and her heart sped up as the figure behind the curtain started to struggle with the heavy fabric. Even across the room, she could hear them swearing as her hand found the switch at last, flooding the room with light.

The person behind the curtains gave a loud cry and toppled over, taking the curtain with them, tearing the rod clean off the wall. Missy yelped, despite herself, and dropped the bat. It made a dull, hollow sound when it hit the floor. _Edgar can hear a pin drop any other day, where's his super hearing when I really need it, huh? _She stooped to retrieve the bat, her eyes never leaving the body on the other side of the room.

"Fuck!" She flinched, paralyzed with the bat in her hand. A couple of seconds passed, and when she didn't hear any movement, she let go of the hope that the idiots in the bedroom across the hall had heard anything.

Taking matters into her own hands, she ran across the room, waving the bat up over her head and screaming like she was on fire. "Hi-ya!" She brought the bat up on the 'hi' and slammed it down over the curtain-wrapped stranger on the 'ya'. She felt the shock from the hit vibrate all the way up the body of the bat to her hands, and shortly after, the wood gave a loud crack and split into two pieces. She squeaked and fell down onto her rear, scrambling backwards, away from the intruder.

"Jesus!" The person under the curtain stood at last, and it might have just been her fear exaggerating things, but Missy felt like they towered over her. Then again, she was on the floor. "Miss, it's me!" The curtain was thrown to the floor, and if the lights hadn't been so bright, Missy might have thought she was seeing things.

"P-Paul?"

Paul was rubbing the back of his head and occasionally glancing at his palm. Missy assumed he was checking for blood. "What the hell did you hit me with?" Her eyes shot to the splintered weapon on the floor, and he glanced down in response. "A bat? You hit me with a bat? Fuck! Last time I try to be romantic, and hi-ya? What are you? The Karate Kid? Christ!"

There was a second sound at the window and the remaining curtain was pulled back. "Paul, calm down."

"Marko?" Her mind sputtered for a second, trying to catch up with what it had just been thrown.

"Hey Missy." He waved at her, moving to stand beside Paul. "Dude, don't be a dick to her just because you can't climb through a window without falling on your face."

"Why can't she have a window in _her _room like a normal girl? We gotta sneak in like fuckin' cat burglars or some shit." The two blondes proceeded to argue over whether or not it was actually all that romantic to sneak in through a girl's bedroom window. Paul argued that it was tied for romanticism by throwing rocks at a girl's window and standing beneath it with a boom box. Marko argued that any sense of daring and romance was lost if you had to sneak in through someone else's window to get to the girl, and falling on your face and getting hit with a bat certainly wasn't attractive.

Missy was left to ponder how it was neither Frog parent (nor Edgar and Alan) had woken up during the ruckus she and the boys had created. "Um, fellas, I'm having a little trouble figuring out what you two were doing sneaking in in the first place. Aren't you supposed to be grounded?"

Paul tossed his head and grinned like a wolf. "We got out early for good behavior."

"I see." Missy blinked, reaching up wiping her bangs where they'd begun to stick to her sweaty forehead.

"You okay, you look like you seen a ghost or something."

"Having trouble sleeping?" Marko moved in, and Missy let him touch her still clammy face.

"A little, I keep having this stupid nightmare about-"

"'bout what?" Paul piped up, but Missy was too busy staring at something on the wall behind him to answer.

Edgar and Alan were vampire fanatics, that much was a given. In addition to random vampire screenings, and the occasionally suck-monkey pop quiz, Edgar and Alan had strategically hidden a mirror in every room of the apartment (all part of their flawless vampire-proofing, or so they claimed), and something rather strange had caught Missy's eye in the mirror on the wall behind Paul's back.

Nothing.

There was nothing there but a skinny blonde in her pajamas with a look on her face like someone had just walked over her grave. She could see the Frog parents in the bed on her right, and nothing else.

Marko and Paul weren't casting reflections.

_No reflections. _She took a shaky step back, slipping a hand under her nightshirt to retrieve the stake that had somehow managed not to fall from her waistband.

Paul's eyes zeroed in on it, followed by Marko's. The both of them let out a sound that could never have come from a human throat, their eyes flashing to amber, their mouths filling with too sharp teeth as they backed toward the open window.

_Oh my god. _Missy gasped, her free hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

Edgar and Alan had been right. Vampires actually existed.

More horrifying than that…

Edgar and Alan had been right!

"You guys are vampires!"

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**So…the big reveal. I feel like I need a cigarette, this chapter was THAT satisfying to write. It was also my longest at seven thousand, eight hundred, and thirty seven words. That being said, I would like to address now, a review I received for chapter twelve regarding David. I adore David, I do, he's just a bit of an asshole. He's not the bad guy, just an asshole. A sexy one, one I happen to be very fond of, despite his assholeishness, or maybe because of it, I'm not sure, but most certainly not the bad guy. Missy and David are just gonna need to have a sit down and settle these differences they have after this chapter.**


	15. Failing Vamps 101

**I really, really need to stop getting so distracted by other fandoms. Is anybody still out there?**

* * *

_"One of the most troublesome things in life is that what you do or do not want has very little to do with what does or does not happen."_

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Nothing in the room made a sound.

Not Missy, pressed so tight against the wall she could feel the wallpaper motif against her skin through the fabric of her shirt, and not Paul or Marko, watching from the other side of the room with amber eyes, baring their teeth each time she moved too suddenly.

Mr. and Mrs. Dead-To-The-World hadn't so much as stirred on the bed, and Edgar and Alan (self-proclaimed vampire hunters) were sleeping as easy as babes, oblivious to the fact that two very real vampires were standing in the room across the hall from them. Edgar could hear a comic being dog-eared from the far end of the boardwalk, but he couldn't hear her scream "vampire" at the top of her lungs?

Figures.

A vicious growl like something off the nature channel ripped directly from the center of Paul's chest, shattering the silence in the room so suddenly that Missy jumped a good foot to the left. "What the hell are you packin' a stake for? You got anything else in those drawers I should know about?"

Missy could imagine how Paul would have said it under different circumstances. He'd have thrown his head back, blue eyes glittering with mischief, and then he'd lean in while he gave her one of his naughtiest smirks. She would have blushed and swatted at him, and then Marko would have shoved him, leading to a fight that ended with Paul in a headlock.

But these weren't those circumstances. Paul wasn't smirking, and Missy wasn't blushing.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Missy spat, holding the stake out in front of her like a gun. She wasn't sure how much effect a bullet would have on a vampire, but she would've given just about anything for one just then. She wasn't even sure if she could fire a gun (…she'd seen a couple movies), for all she knew, she could do more damage throwing a handful of rice at them than shooting them, but at least she wouldn't have to get as close to them to shoot them as she would to stake them.

"We're not going to hurt you, Missy." Marko leaned forward, and Missy was relieved to see that his eyes were beautiful and blue again, and his smile free of fangs. "Put the stake down."

"Not gonna happen." She saw Paul move out of the corner of her eye and pointed the stake at him. "Don't even think about it, buddy boy."

"Just put it down, Missy." Paul's face was back to normal, and he half smiled at her. "Before you trip and hurt yourself."

"Give me one good reason."

Paul shrugged one shoulder. "How about 'cause if you don't, I'm gonna come over there and take it from you."

That was a good reason.

Still, Missy wasn't going to give up her only means of defending herself without a fight. No way. If they wanted it, they'd have to pry it from her cold, dead hands. Though, she'd rather that not be the case.

"Missy."

Missy didn't have time to blink before Paul was in front of her. She yelped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, the stake clattering to the floor between her feet.

So much for "cold, dead hands".

"Easy, girl." Paul whispered.

What was she, a horse?

The blonde biker's arms snaked around her, lifting her by her waist and holding her up against his body. She thrashed life a fish in a net, lashing out at every part of Paul she could lay a hit on. "Let me-" Marko's left hand closed over her mouth, and Paul's arms tightened.

"Missy," Marko's voice was very soft, and his free hand came up to cup her face. "look at me, Missy." Missy stopped wiggling, the water in her eyes spilling down over Marko's hands.

_Please don't kill me._

Paul made a disgusted noise. "We don't wanna kill you."

_Vampire, hello?  
_

"Well, yeah." Missy couldn't see Paul grinning behind her, but she could hear it in his voice. "But we don't kill people we like."

Missy tried not to be flattered, she really did.

"Now," Paul was still smiling, naturally. "if I put you down, you're not gonna knee me in the nads, are you?"

Marko uncovered her mouth, and Missy licked her lips before she answered. "No promises."

Marko sniggered. "Good enough for me."

Paul set her back on her feet and both he and Marko took a big step away from her. Apparently, as little of a threat as she was sans weapon, they weren't foolhardy enough to think a kick to the groin (though non-fatal) wouldn't still hurt.

"You're vampires." Missy wanted it to sound less ludicrous than it did. She had seen the evidence. She had seen their reflections, or lack thereof. She'd seen their faces change when she threatened them with the stake, and still it sounded crazy out loud. "You. Are. Vampires." Nope, still ridiculous. "Wait, how did you even get in here? I thought vampires could only come in if they were invited?"

Truth be told, Missy could fill a book with all she didn't know about vampires, but she'd seen the movies. It was Vampires 101. Vampires couldn't enter a person's residence without first receiving an invitation, right?

"You shouldn't take everything you see in the movies at face value." Marko was smiling behind his fist, in that "I know way more than you do." way that never manages to do anything other than make other people want to hit you.

Marko and Paul were vampires. David and Dwayne were too, had to be. Suddenly Star's warnings didn't seem so cryptic.

"There's something that you need to know about David and the boys, something that I can't tell you." But they're not vampires or anything crazy like that, though, right?

"The boys aren't what they seem, but by the time you find that out for yourself, it'll be too late." Not what they seem, okay, so they're assholes? Republicans? What?

"I didn't want you to end up like me so I asked him to say things to you that would make you not want to be around us anymore." End up like what? END UP LIKE WHAT?

"Oh, Missy, I can't tell you." Wow. Bitch move.

How hard is it to open your pouty puppy mouth and go "Um, Missy? Yeah, the guys, they're vampires. No, I'm serious. Yeah. Full on blood-sucking, garlic and holy water, young virgin seducing, bat transforming, Nosferatu vampires."

…apparently it was a lot harder than it sounded.

"You think we just go around telling people we're vampires?" Paul snorted. "Yeah, why not, and let's tell 'em where we sleep too so they can come light us up Salem-style."

"Actually, the whole burning people at the stake thing took place mostly in Europe. In America people suspected of witchcraft were mostly hanged…well, with the exception of Giles Corey who was crushed to death for refusing to enter a plea."

Paul's eyebrows shot up, and Marko hid a laugh with a subtle cough. Missy's stare didn't falter, and after a few painfully long seconds, Paul's surprise lessened and his smile grew. "Anyone ever tell you you're pretty weird?"

"It might've come up once or twice." Missy's eyes flickered from Marko to Paul, nervous like a dog waiting to be kicked. She couldn't risk looking away for a second, not after she'd seen how fast they could move if they wanted to.

"We don't actually turn into bats, you know." Paul was grinning again, like the cat that swallowed the canary, making it even more difficult for Missy to convince herself that it was safe to be around him.

"Oh?" Now, Missy felt about as comfortable as a dog with fleas making small talk with two established vampires, but having a conversation was preferable to getting her throat ripped out. She'd talk about anything Paul and Marko wanted to talk about to keep their attention off her.

"Yeah." Paul said, looking fairly relaxed himself as he dropped to sit on the edge of the bed the Frog parents occupied. Missy watched him, praying to whoever was listening that he wouldn't wake them. "Most of the stuff you see in the movies is bullshit. I never met a vampire who could turn into a bat. Who would want to? Bats aren't scary, and we can fly anyway, so what's the-"

"You can fly?" Missy felt her eyes go wide.

"Yeah." Paul smirked. "You wanna try it?"

Missy was quick to decline, pressing herself back against the wall and shaking her head vehemently. "I like my feet just fine on the ground, thanks."

Paul shrugged, but her refusal didn't seem to affect his mood any. "Suit yourself."

"Missy." Marko advanced toward her, and Missy gave a start, whipping her head around to watch him. "You don't have to be afraid of us."

"That so?" Missy almost laughed. "You're killers, why shouldn't I be afraid of you?"

"Because we're not here to kill you." Marko was close enough to her now for the two of them to touch, but Missy wasn't going to be the one to breach that gap.

"Why are you here?"

Marko didn't respond, instead he turned his head to look past her at the open doorway, and he bared his teeth, hissing quietly. "Paul."

Paul shot up off the bed like he'd been bit, his face shifting so fast Missy's eyes could hardly follow the change. "Dammit." He swore, turning to look back at the window, and then at the door again.

"Missy?"

Missy felt like someone had reached into her chest and stopped her heart. "Oh no." She whispered.

Not now.

* * *

"Missy?" Edgar came through the open doorway and stopped, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand and yawning. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Alan came after him, his hair matted down on one side, and pillow creases on his cheek. The younger Frog was in his boxers, like his brother, but unlike his brother, he was wearing a shirt, a gray one that read "Why waltz when you can rock -n- roll?"

The elder brother took in Missy's pale, sweaty face, her heaving chest and skittish eyes, and frowned. "You okay?" Alan asked her.

Missy's smile felt more like a grimace, and Edgar and Alan exchanged looks. "Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?"

"It's three in the morning and you're standing in the middle of our parents' room looking like you've just seen a ghost."

Or a vampire. Missy wanted to add, but Edgar and Alan shared a sense of humor between the two of them that was barely there as it was, and somehow she knew that jokes about vampires weren't something that made the stony teenagers chuckle.

"I heard a noise." That was the truth, most of it, at least. Missy knew that she couldn't lie her way out of a paper bag, and Edgar had a nose for fibs like a bloodhound's. "The wind must've knocked the curtain down."

The open window wouldn't have been all that suspicious on its own, but the curtain rod that Paul had ripped off the wall in his struggle was more than a little suspect.

Edgar gave her a look like she'd just grown a second head. A second head with yellow eyes, fangs, and a bad attitude. "Strong wind." He said.

Missy shrugged and turned to look back at the window, her gaze sneaking instead to the floor where she'd left the stake. It was gone. Along with the shattered pieces of the baseball she'd used to hit Paul. She knew Paul and Marko had taken them. "Must've been a freak storm or something."

Edgar clearly didn't buy it. It was too fishy. The ground outside wasn't even wet, nor was the carpet beneath the window, or the bedclothes. A storm with wind strong enough to rip the curtain rod off the wall, but not an ounce of wetness on carpet or curtain to speak of?

Gale force winds, but no rain?

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Missy was digging herself into a pretty big hole. "If not a storm, then what? What, you think I snuck in your parents' room and ripped the curtain rod off the wall just for the heck of it? That thing was nailed into the wall pretty good, I think it'd be pretty impossible for me to yank it off with my bare hands, don't you? You see a crowbar on me?" In the short time that Missy had had to get to know Edgar and Alan Frog, she'd realized that neither of them were particularly good at hiding what they were thinking. She didn't have to be a mind reader, all she had to do was look at them. Edgar didn't believe her story for a minute. He knew it hadn't been wind that pulled the curtain rod off the wall, but he also knew that it couldn't have been her. Alan, on the other hand, looked equal parts confused, tired, and annoyed with his brother.

Missy waited for what felt like an hour, and finally Edgar grunted at her. "Whatever, I'm going back to bed." She didn't like lying to the Frog brothers any more than she liked having the knowledge that not a minute before she'd been in the presence of two bloodthirsty killers, but she wasn't about to get Edgar and Alan involved, even if her head was screaming at her to share with them what she still had trouble believing herself. She might have been able to delude herself into thinking it was just another crazy dream of hers if it weren't for the curtain rod. _Damn you, Paul._

Alan hung around just a moment longer than his brother, frowning at Missy. "You sure you're alright?"

Missy wanted to scream. Of course she wasn't alright. Paul and Marko were vampires, and now they knew that she knew they were vampires. Would they kill her? She thought of leaving Santa Carla and trying to forget what she'd learned, but she doubted she would even have a chance of getting away from them before they got to her. She wondered if promising not to tell anyone would change their minds. _Doubtful. _"I really am okay, Alan, thank you." _Bless his heart_, Missy thought, but she really needed to nip his little crush on her in the bud before it got out of hand. He was nice, at least nicer than Edgar, a little weird, true, but he wasn't half bad to look at. He just needed to find a nice, sane girl to settle down with. Missy wasn't oblivious enough not to know that she came with way more baggage than a kid like Alan should have to deal with. "I'm gonna go back to bed before Edgar tries to make me recite the rosary again." Alan almost popped a smile, and she could feel his eyes on her back the whole way back to her room. She stood in her doorway just long enough to smile back over her shoulder at him. "Goodnight, Alan."

* * *

She couldn't shut her door fast enough. One more door between her and the open window in the Frog parents' bedroom meant at least one more obstacle between her and the knowledge that vampires existed. It was enough work trying to keep her brain from shorting out without trying to worry if Marko and Paul were on the level. Annoying bikers, she could handle. Mind readers, now that was a little less simple. But vampires? Whole 'nother, ball game.

_What am I gonna do?_ She moaned, flopping backwards onto her mattress and sighing. _What the heck am I supposed to do now?_

"That was close." Paul's face appeared at the side of her bed, smirking like a fiend. Missy -at least partially aware that Edgar and Alan were only a door away- swallowed the scream that so desperately wanted to claw its way out as she rolled off her bed and slammed into the floor with a tiny grunt. "Whoa, time to switch to decaf."

Missy sprang back like a switch had been flipped, reaching across the bed to swing at Paul's smirking face. "Are you insane?" She hissed. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Hiding under your bed." Missy nearly fainted as Marko slid himself out from under her bed to kneel beside, grinning from ear to ear.

"Chill out, girl, your heart sounds like it's gonna explode." Paul hopped up from his place on the floor and threw himself down on her bed, his long body covering the length and a half of it easily. Missy watched him, eyes so wide she could have sworn she felt tearing. Her mind tried to erase the image of Paul stretched out on her comforter, and she blinked over and over again, trying to wash the picture away.

"This isn't happening." She whispered. She crawled away from the bed and sat herself down a foot or two from her book shelf, slumping miserably against the wall opposite the bed and the vampires. "Why are you in my room?"

Paul snorted. "Didn't think you wanted your roomies to know we were here."

Marko was staring at the cross nailed above her bed and trying not to laugh, or wince, it seemed. "Cute."

Missy made a noise of disgust. "What do I have to do to get you guys to leave me alone? Bathe in holy water? Or is that just a movie myth too? Let me guess, you guys love garlic and sunbathing right?"

"Missy, come here." Marko shoved one of Paul's legs out of the way and planted himself down, patting the bedspread beside him.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Missy spoke this into her bare knees. She didn't hear either of them make a single noise, and she didn't know which one of them was touching her until Marko whispered in the hair that had fallen over her left ear.

"Missy." She turned her head just a fraction, watching him as he moved what must have been for a vampire, painfully slowly, to sit beside her. He slid his arm around her back and left it there. Paul rolled around on the bed, digging for something in one of his pockets.

"You're gonna kill me now, right?" Missy felt him shrug one shoulder against her.

"It's not up to me."

"Who is it up to?" Somehow, she knew the answer wasn't going to surprise her. _David._

"You got it, babe." Paul winked at her, lighting the cigarette he'd removed from his coat pocket. "Davey calls the shots, we fall in line."

...well, at least he was honest.

"We don't have any reason to lie to you anymore, Missy. You know our big secret."

"Only secret, really, unless you count the fact that Marko's not a natural blonde-"

"Paul, shut up."

Missy looked up, frowning. "Why didn't you just stop talking to me after I found out you could read minds?"

Marko actually had the gall to look abashed. "We like you."

"You got a funny way of showing it." Missy grumbled. "You think if you liked a person you'd try not to get them killed."

"Comes with the turf." It was Paul's turn to shrug. "We're used to it."

"Killing people?" Missy couldn't have looked more shocked if Paul had slapped her with a live mackerel.

Paul gave her a look that pretty much screamed "Well, duh, vampire."

"Okay, then, riddle me this, Dracula." Missy snapped. "Why me? There are plenty of girls on the boardwalk more interesting than me."

"Sure, yeah." Paul shrugged, crossing his legs at the ankle and grinning. "But you were the one I ran into outside Max's."

Missy thought for a second she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope." Paul said brightly, popping the 'P'. "We were just gonna leave you alone but then, you know, Laddie, and I mean, you know the kid's crazy about you right? And then you figured out the whole big secret thing, so it wasn't like we could just-"

Missy was by no means listening at this point, she was staring at a spot on the wall behind Paul's bushy blonde head. _Great, _she thought, _just great. _Stuck with not one, but two vampires, and one of them had clearly smoked his brains away.

Marko started to laugh, and Missy willed herself to flinch, to feel afraid, but she all she felt was the tiniest smile creeping onto her lips, and shocked at how very young Marko looked when he laughed.

"What?" Marko was watching her, and Missy, realizing that she had been caught staring, again, turned red.

"Sorry, it's just…" Her eyes flickered to Paul, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed now, picking at a loose thread on his coat sleeve. Missy cleared her throat and stared at her hands in her lap until she had gathered up enough courage to speak again. "...you aren't anything like I expected." Marko tilted his head, and Missy interpreted his silence as her cue to go on. She did, licking her lips and ignoring the way Paul's eyes zeroed in on the movement before she spoke. "Not how I thought vampires were supposed to be."

Paul sniffed loudly, though it might have been a snort. "What did you expect vampires to be like?"

"I don't know." Missy snapped tartly. "Different. I mean, you're not trying to bite me or kill me or anything. You're acting..." _Like you aren't vicious killers_, her mind finished for her.

"We're not hungry." Paul smirked at her in an entirely discomforting way. "Besides, we don't really have a reason to kill you-"

"Unless David tells you to." Missy interjected, shivering.

"Well, yeah, but Laddie and Star," Paul cringed as he said the girl's name. "like you plenty, and he likes to keep them happy, keeps 'em out of his hair."

"Dwayne spoke on your behalf earlier tonight, after your little outburst." Marko told her, grinning mischievously. Missy ignored that, but waved her hand for him to go on. "David respects Dwayne too much not to listen to his opinion, and he doesn't believe you're a danger to us, and Dwayne thinks you're good for Laddie."

"He said that?" Missy blinked slowly, looking rather like a skinny blond owl as she did.

Paul snickered and Marko shot him a withering look. "Not in so many words."

"He sort of grunted and nodded." Paul was grinning from ear to ear, an expression that Missy was coming to think of as Default Paul. "You kinda have to interpret with Dwayne, he's not real chatty."

"I noticed." Missy stared at her hands some more, and concentrated on the heat she could feel spreading through her back where Marko's arm was pressed against her shoulders. That was odd wasn't it? Weren't vampires supposed to be cold? That was what the books and movies always said.

"We are." Marko asserted, instantly upping the creep factor as he effortlessly responded to her thoughts. He laughed a little, reaching for one of her hands and lifting it off her lap, wrapping his larger one around it. His skin was certainly cool against hers, where it wasn't covered by his gloves, but not uncomfortably so, and certainly not what she would consider cold.

"You don't feel cold." Missy mumbled, delicately tugging against the hold on her hand, and Marko instantly released it. She liked him a lot for that.

"We're warmer after we feed." Paul broke in, and Missy flinched at the casual tone he used.

"Oh..." She swallowed hard, lowering her eyes to stare at the floor again. "Does that mean you just..."

Marko nodded slowly, and his arm disappeared from her shoulders. "Paul has zero self-control as is," the blonde on the bed let out an indignant noise. "and it isn't always easy to avoid temptation when it's right in front of you like this."

Missy wished that it wasn't so obvious that he was staring at her throat as he said this, and her heart fluttered as she spoke uneasily. "Do I...well...tempt you?"

Marko just grinned, and Paul threw his head back and laughed loud and sharp. "In more ways than one, girl."

She wasn't comforted in the least, and to her severe annoyance, she realized that Marko and Paul were laughing at her. Again.

"Go ahead." Missy shot to her feet like a bee had stung her on her hind end, glowering at the snickering blondes and wishing that looks could kill. Marko and Paul would've been nothing but ash marks on her floor. "Laugh at the human. Stupid vampires."

"Oh come on." Paul hopped up from the bed to slip his arms around her waist, tugging her body against his. "You're funny."

Missy squirreled her face up and shoved at Paul's chest. "I am not." She really wasn't. She didn't have that great of a sense of humor, and she had the feeling Paul would laugh at just about anything.

Paul let her go and dropped back to perch on the edge of the bed, tapping a beat out on his thighs. Watching his hands made her feel more anxious than she liked, and Missy kicked his shin as hard as she dared. "Cut it out and go away. I need to sleep."

"Want me to keep you company?" Paul showed way too much teeth as he said it, and Missy could have sworn she glimpsed a bit of fang.

"Sure." Missy grumbled. "We can watch the sunrise together."

Paul's smile fell a mile.

Missy felt sorry for even saying it. Vampire or not, there was no excuse for bad manners. "That was rude." She whispered. "I didn't mean that." It terrified her how much she hadn't meant it. She should want Paul and Marko dead, shouldn't she? They were vampires. They were cold-blooded killers. They were the bad guys, so why didn't she hate them? She was terrified of them, sure, but she thought they were okay guys if she didn't think too much about the whole blood-drinking thing. They were funny, and cute, and they hadn't tried to drink her blood even one time.

"We should let you get back to sleep." Faster than she could have moved if she'd sprinted, Marko and Paul were standing by her door. They didn't look remotely out-of-breath, but then again, vampires didn't breathe, right?

"Thank you." For letting her go back to sleep. For not tearing her throat out. For not slaughtering her roommates. She wasn't sure which one, if not all, she was most grateful for. "Good night, or, well, good night."

"Later, Missay." Paul winked at her, but Missy felt like his heart wasn't really in it. He and Marko had gotten real depressed looking real fast, and she couldn't figure why.

"We'll see you tomorrow night." Marko said, looking like somebody had just kicked his puppy.

"Why do I get the feeling that's not a good thing?" Then it hit her. God, she could be such a big, blonde idiot sometimes. She knew exactly why Marko and Paul looked like somebody had rained on their parade. David was head honcho of their secret vampire society (it made her twinge just thinking that) and Marko and Paul had blabbed (sort of) their big secret to a mere mortal.

She'd seen the movies.

She'd read the books.

She'd skimmed the comics.

There was only one way to deal with someone who'd learned of the vampires true natures, and she wondered how long she'd live after David found out what she knew.

Marko and Paul must have had a lot of practice controlling their expressions, because neither one of them so much as blinked as her eyes started to water, though Marko took a step toward her. "Missy, it's-"

"Get out of here." Missy didn't raise her voice, she didn't throw something at them, she just slumped down on her bed and let the tears go. Why should she care what Marko and Paul thought of her? Why should she care if they thought she was a weak, emotional human? She was dead anyway, or good as. "Leave me alone." She wondered if she should say goodbye to the Frogs, or if it would be kinder to let them make up their own conclusions as to where she'd disappeared to. Maybe David and his boys would make it look like an accident. She thought Alan would miss her, and maybe Edgar, just a little bit. She figured Renee wouldn't care at all when she heard the news, but her grandparents would. Thinking about that only made the crying worse, and through her blurry vision, she realized that the space in front of her door was empty. Marko and Paul had gone, and she hadn't even heard them touch the door.

* * *

Missy decided that she wouldn't say goodbye after all. She would be the same in death as she'd been throughout her whole life.

Unnoticeable. _Edgar and Alan will wonder for a while. _Insignificant. _It won't take them long to stop wondering. Before long, they'll stop trying to.  
__  
_Forgettable. _I'll just be the crazy girl who once rented a room from them. _

They wouldn't even remember her name, and she figured it was probably better that way.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**This chapter was a little saddening to write at the end, but otherwise pretty fun to write, not sure why. If anybody out there is still reading, drop me a line, and by that I mean please review to let me know you still care.**


	16. Hope and Hopelessness

**Oh my gosh, guys, thank you all so much for the reviews. Seventy three? I half expected this thing to get like...ten, tops. Then again, I didn't really expect myself to be able to get past the third chapter. Yay me, and yay you guys for caring enough to stick with me on this and for taking the time to tell me what you think. Your devotion means the world to me, and my muse certainly appreciates the compliments. Anywhoo, chapter sixteen, veeeeeery enjoyable to write, and I hope it is just as enjoyable for you all to read. By the by, I do realize I have a severe problem with the deadlines I keep trying to set for myself, but I put a lot of planning into my chapters, and am also a vicious nitpicker when it comes to my writing. It takes me forever to get a chapter to what I deem "tolerable enough to publish", so bear with me. I try to be speedy, I end up taking a month to write a paragraph. My muse hates me. Warning: This chapter features some violence towards the end that borders on graphic. Remember, this is rated M for a reason.**

* * *

_"It is difficult, when faced with a situation you cannot control, to admit you can do nothing."_

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

Waking up exhausted wasn't something that Missy knew a lot about, or had a lot of experience with, but as she forced her eyelids up and her legs to kick her covers off, she was certain that there was no better way to describe how she felt.

She could have come up with a thousand good reasons to shut her eyes and pretend to sleep for another hour. That rather extensive list both beginning and ending with the fact that vampires actually existed. She knew she wouldn't go back to sleep, though, as tempting as the thought was. It would have been impossible even if she wanted to, even if it wouldn't mean she'd be wasting another precious hour in what might be her last day on Earth. She couldn't afford to waste a single second, let alone a whole hour lying in bed.

She felt jittery and at the same time exhausted. This was easily explained by the not quite so irrational fear of David popping up to kill her that had yet to quit plaguing her. This was despite the fact that the sounds of Edgar and Alan arguing in the hall over who should be allowed to use the bathroom first established firmly that it was morning.

Her head and heart felt heavy. She wondered how much sleep she'd gotten if she added it all up. For a minute, she couldn't remember when she'd gotten less uninterrupted sleep, and then she remembered. It had been the day her dad died. There had been so much guilt and grief that even when she had expended the last vestiges of her energy sobbing into her pillow, she stayed awake. People don't expect much of someone who's just lost their single remaining parent, and Missy took advantage of that, pulling into herself and shutting out anyone who tried to reach her. Her grandparents were too busy with their grief to see their granddaughter spiraling, and since Renee was too angry to be sad, she made it easy for Missy to have a reason to avoid the rest of the world. Missy wasn't grieving for anyone now, except for perhaps the fact that it was only because the sun was up that she was still alive, but she felt the same dead weight in her stomach she'd felt after she learned her father had been shot.

Her feet hit the floor beside her bed and the bickering in the hallway stopped as suddenly as if someone had pressed the mute button. Alan hadn't been joking when he said Edgar had good hearing. The younger Frog could hear an ant sneeze, it was ridiculous, and Alan was almost as bad. She sighed. They knew she was up now, there was no point pretending otherwise, she might as well go out and face them.

Her legs felt like she'd strapped weights to them, and she dragged her feet over to her door and opened it. "Morning." She mumbled as she passed the Frog brothers, who were too busy gaping at her with their mouths open like fish to complain or respond as she shut the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

Long showers were the key to happiness, or, at least, they were a step in the right direction of Missy feeling human again. She scrubbed, washed, brushed, shaved, and then stood under the spray for ten minutes more than she needed to. She could have stayed until the water turned cold, but the rational part of her brain reminded her that she had roommates, both with very little tolerance for what they liked to call her "stupid woman ways", e.g., bathing, apparently. Boys, honestly, just because their hair was three inches long and they could shower in under a minute (the definition of 'shower' here meaning to stand under the water for thirty seconds and declare whatever got wet clean) didn't mean she wanted hygiene lessons from them.

Ever.

That being said, Edgar and Alan did have a lot to say to her once she'd unlocked the bathroom door, at which moment they'd both rushed inside like the fiery demons of Hell were upon them. Very little of what they said had anything to do with hygiene other than a few brief remarks about how it doesn't take an hour and a half to wash one's hair, and a lot of it she wouldn't be caught dead repeating in polite society.

Edgar and Alan were a far cry from being morning people, and there was nothing like being locked outside the bathroom for an hour with a raging need to relieve oneself to make the non-morning folks, like Edgar and Alan, lose their minds. Missy herself was pretty much functional from the moment she opened her eyes. At least, she mused as she tugged the tee-shirt Edgar had given her the night before over her head, she was on days when her sleep wasn't plagued with images of yellow eyes and fangs. She slipped herself into a pair of denim shortalls as she tried not to think too much about her nightmares, tugging the straps over her shoulders and hooking them in the front.

She was halfway through making her bed when the picture frame lying face down on the little table beside the bed caught her eye and she stopped. She was glad she hadn't remember to fix it yet, she didn't need her parents' smiling faces making her feel any worse than she already did. She had too much on her mind, namely, what did one do with what could very well be their last day on Earth?

She tried to think of all the little things she'd never done before. Smoke a cigarette, drink a beer, kiss a boy, ride on an airplane, drive a car, swim in the ocean, get a funnel cake from the boardwalk. None of which she really had any desire to do on what could be her last day alive, well, except for maybe kiss a boy. But as it turned out, the only boy she might have been interested in kissing was part of the gang who would most likely end up killing her. Funny how things like that worked out, wasn't it?

In the end, she didn't think she would do anything spectacular with her last day, and that suited her just fine. She was a pretty unspectacular person, it didn't make any sense for her to try and change that now just because of a bunch of stupid vampires.

In her heart of hearts, Missy thought she'd always known that there was something not exactly normal, and more than likely dangerous about David and his boys. Maybe that was why she wanted to kick herself so hard now that the truth was right in front of her.

"Missy, you okay?" Alan was standing in her doorway, looking a lot more awake now that he'd had a chance to get at the bathroom, and she realized she'd been staring off into space for longer than she thought.

She tried to conjure something reminiscent of a smile, and it must have looked more like a grimace, because Alan's scowl deepened. "Just had a rough night, is all. Didn't get much sleep."

"That's obvious." Edgar appeared beside his brother, looking like he'd just smelled something gross, which was arguably similar to his usual expression. "You've got bags under your eyes big enough to carry fifty bucks worth of groceries." There was that good old-fashioned Edgar Frog charm. Must mean he'd gotten over being mad at her for butting into his little confrontation the other day.

"Thanks, Edgar."

Edgar grunted. "You gonna help out in the store today for a change?" Missy wanted to believe that Edgar wasn't just a jerk who wanted to put her to work, that his motive for asking her was really because he didn't mind having her around to talk to, but then she remembered that Edgar could hardly stand her, he really was a jerk, and he really did just want to put her to work.

"Sure." She replied, forcing a smile onto her face. "I've got nothing better to do today."

Edgar and Alan glanced at each other and then their expressions hardened into twin expressions of dead seriousness. Which, well, was pretty much how Missy was accustomed to seeing them look anyhow, even if it was for a different reason. Their faces couldn't have said "Who is this crazy girl and what has she done with the real Missy?" any clearer than if they'd had it tattooed on their foreheads.

"What's up with you?" Edgar barked, and Missy could've rolled her eyes, but she fought back the urge and just smiled. She was fighting that urge a lot lately, it seemed.

"Not sure what you mean, Edgar."

Edgar's expression turned even more grave, and Missy wasn't sure how that was possible. Honestly, he looked like someone had just told him that vampires had taken over the earth. "You're acting weird."

_Says he who owns more headbands than Rambo._ "Weird how?" The Frogs turned their backs on her, dipping their heads and leaning in real close to each other so that Missy couldn't hear what they were saying, though she had a vague suspicion. "Edgar, I swear to God, if you pull a cross on me, I'm gonna go downstairs, find your Batman number fourteen, and I'm gonna eat it."

Edgar stepped away from his brother and removed the hand he had in his pocket (no doubt wrapped around another crucifix) and grunted. "Whatever." It was no wonder people wanted to hit him; Edgar had zero people skills. Why he worked in retail was anyone's guess. "Get to work, and by work, I mean do something other than stand around and distract us." And by us, he meant Alan. "Clean something. Just don't touch the register." A beat. "On second thought, don't touch the comics either. Don't touch anything. Just...clean something."

Edgar's faith in her was staggering.

Biting back the sassy remark that was struggling to get out, Missy pinched her lips together so she wouldn't be tempted and tried to figure out how she was supposed to clean if she wasn't allowed to touch anything. She felt like she was living in a museum, and Edgar was the grouchy curator following her around to make sure she didn't breathe on the priceless works of art. She thought about licking her hand and touching all the comics for spite, but that would only mean more work for her since she'd be the one who'd wind up having to clean them.

"Did you have another nightmare?" Alan had waited until his brother was out of earshot to say it, which Missy did appreciate; even if he was bringing up a subject that she'd rather not talk about, which she didn't appreciate.

"I was just restless, is all." Too much vampire on the mind for peaceful sleep.

Hardly looking convinced, Alan stepped inside her room and shut the door behind him.

Missy shifted a bit and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, trying to look anywhere but at Alan, who she could still feel staring at her. "What?"

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

Missy lifted her hand and began to pick at her nails, commanding herself to be the picture of nonchalance. "What what is?"

Alan curled his lip up at her. She hadn't been on the receiving end of that particular Alan expression since her first night in Santa Carla. "You know what. Why you're acting so weird. Why you can't sleep. It's those guys, isn't it?"

Why couldn't Alan be as obtuse as his brother was? Apparently the clueless gene skipped him. "One," Missy began, pushing herself off the bed and fixing the elder Frog with a sour look. "I'm not acting weird, and even if I was, maybe I don't want to talk about it? Did you ever think of that?" Alan opened his mouth and Missy held up one hand to hush him. She liked Alan, but the less he knew the better, even if it meant she had to hurt his feelings to get him to stop asking questions. "Two, how much sleep I do or do not get is my business, not yours." She took a step toward Alan, who was glaring at her like, well, like Edgar usually did. "And three, I don't want to talk about those guys. Ever."

It was all too tempting of a thought to just spill her guts to Alan now. About everything. To take the weight that was crushing her and share some of it with another person. Even if she could manage to do it without feeling horribly guilty for drawing Alan (and by consequence, Edgar) into her life's special brand of crazy, not to mention making him and his brother both a target for David (because hey, what excuse wouldn't a bunch of vampires use to take out a couple of self-proclaimed vampire hunters?), she still wouldn't want to burden them with her problems. One, she wasn't the type of person who looked to others to deal with her problems; and two, Edgar and Alan were just kids. So was she, or so her mind kept telling her; but she was seventeen, not fourteen, and Edgar and Alan had enough problems trying to take care of themselves and their deadbeat parents without her getting them into trouble with vampires.

Missy slumped back down on her bed and sighed. "I know you're just trying to be nice, and I appreciate it." She did. It was tough sometimes trying to remember what it was like to have someone want to share her woes with her. "But the things I've got on my mind, I can take care of on my own, okay?"

Alan's snarl softened into something that was more like a frown. "Okay." It was clear that he wanted to say more, make an effort to comfort her, and so Missy could've hugged him when all he did was nod sharply at her. He opened her door again, hesitating just long enough in the open doorway to glance back at her. "I'll get Edgar to do inventory with me today, that should keep him off your back for a couple hours at least."

Missy smiled big. "That's sweet, but I don't think Edgar could stay off my back if his life depended on it."

"Think about what I said, though, okay? If you want to talk or anything, just let me know."

Missy hated lying to Alan when all he was trying to do was be a good friend, but what choice did she have? She wasn't the type to go pushing her problems on others, besides. "I will."

* * *

Sundays, Alan had warned her, didn't typically bring in a lot of business for them, but still Missy thought he had been exaggerating until their fifth customer strolled in. At around 4-thirty in the afternoon. Missy lowered the rag she was using to dust the display cases and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, groaning when it came away wet. "Why couldn't I have runaway to someplace where eighty-five degrees isn't considered mild?"

"Do you ever stop complaining?"

Missy tipped her head back and groaned again. "Edgar, if I wasn't so hot right now I'd probably make a sassy remark about you being badly dressed and short."

Edgar and Alan shared a look. "I think that counts as one." Alan mumbled.

"In that case, you're skinny and annoying." Edgar replied.

Missy stuck out her bottom lip and blew up at her bangs, frowning when they stayed plastered to the moist skin of her forehead. "Van Helsing wannabe."

"Big mouth runaway."

"Foul mannered geek."

"Scrawny whiner."

"Prepubescent jerk."

"Delinquent."

"Shrimp."

"You already said short."

Missy shrugged. "Well, you really are."

"I'm just not freakishly tall like _some_ people." Three guesses as to who he was referring to, and the first two don't count. "I'm fourteen, what's your excuse?"

"I ate my vegetables?" It wasn't like she could help being tall. Sure, being able to reach the top shelf every time was nice, but she couldn't wear high heels, or look even remotely petite next to a guy. "Besides," Missy began, grinning. "you're just jealous that I can ride _all _the rides and you're stuck on the kiddie ones."

Edgar grunted. "Whatever."

"Don't be sore, being short's not so bad. You're...travel-sized. For convenience. And I like you even if you are tiny."

Edgar rolled his eyes and placed a hand over his heart. "You have no idea what that means to me."

Missy patted him on the head as she brushed by him to get at the soda can she'd left on the counter by the register. She lifted it and started, it was a lot lighter than she remembered leaving it.

Alan belched.

"Alan!" Missy swatted at his arm. "If you're going to drink my soda without asking, at least have the decency to excuse yourself!"

"There's no excuse for either of you." Edgar grumbled, and Missy narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sorry." Reaching out to take the empty can from her, Alan gave her a sheepish look. "I got thirsty."

"It's fine, say, you two getting hungry yet? I feel like I could eat a horse." Missy shifted to lean the right side of her body against the counter, chewing on her lip briefly before speaking. "What do you want to eat?" Edgar and Alan's mouths opened simultaneously. "And don't you dare sat what I know you're thinking."

"It's quicker."

"Be that as it may, Edgar," The Frog in question glowered at her. "it's just not good for you."

"Do you have to preach about the fundamentals of healthy eating every time you open your mouth?" Edgar all but snapped. "Just go and get something from the boardwalk today."

"Your arteries will thank me."

"Whatever." Popping open the draw on the register, Edgar retrieved a twenty dollar bill and handed it to his brother. "Make sure she doesn't buy anything stupid."

* * *

"Stupid like headbands and camouflage." Missy grumbled as she and Alan navigated a treacherous path through the hordes of people between the comic shop and the food vendors.

"You know," Alan began. "comebacks are usually more effective if the other person can hear them."

"Oh shush. There's no point trying to argue with him, he's thicker than an encyclopedia."

"True," Alan snagged her left arm and swiftly pulled her out of the way of a stampede of schoolchildren. "but it's not like you're any easier to talk to. You're just as stubborn as he is."

"Thanks." Then, belatedly, "and I am not!"

"You both can't always have your way."

"He's the one who won't compromise." Missy gestured over her shoulder in the direction of the comic store. "What's so wrong with eating healthy once in a while? I mention it and he bites my head off!"

"He had oatmeal for breakfast today." Alan told her so pointedly that Missy had to stop for a minute and think about what he'd said.

"He did?" She blinked like a slow blonde owl.

"While you were in the shower. For an hour and a half." Breaking off his glare, Alan began walking again so fast that Missy nearly stumbled trying to keep up with him.

"Half hour, tops."

"My point," Alan continued, unabated, though beginning to look the slightest bit exasperated. "is that he does listen to what you have to say, even if he doesn't always take it to heart. Or do what you want him to."

Missy rarely got the impression that Edgar gave half a damn about what came out of her mouth, but then again, the Frog brothers weren't exactly open books. All she really knew about the inner workings of Edgar's mind she'd learned from Alan, and now that she came to think of it, she didn't know hardly anything at all about Alan himself.

Twirling to face him as they walked, Missy smiled. "What's your favorite color?"

Whipping his head around fast enough to give her secondhand whiplash, Alan gawked at her. "What-"

"Is. Your. Favorite. Color? I'm trying to get to know you better." Missy chirped brightly, then frowned. "Cooperate."

"What does my favorite color have to do with-" Missy's steely gaze caught him mid sentence and he sighed. "Green, I guess."

Missy beamed. "Why green?"

Alan groaned. "You said favorite color, not why."

Missy swayed a bit as they walked, shrugging. "How am I supposed to know anything about you from just your favorite color? Why you picked it is what really matters."

"Green makes me think of fatigues."

Missy half-rolled her eyes and smiled. "Figures."

"Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Chocolate."

"Favorite movie? Wait, let me guess, Rambo? Dracula?" Alan curled his lip up at her and Missy raised her hands in defense. "Never mind. What's your middle name?"

Alan really snarled. "Marshall."

"I like that." Missy smiled down at him. "It's a good middle name. Mine's Grace."

Alan stopped grimacing, but still looked a bit like he was in pain. "What's Missy short for?"

Missy tilted her head curiously. "What makes you think it's short for something?"

It was Alan's turn to shrug. "Just seems like a nickname."

Missy nodded a bit, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth and releasing it with a mild popping sound. "It's short for Melissa."

She could feel Alan staring at the side of her head the entire time he was quiet before he grunted. "I like Missy better."

Missy turned her head a fraction and smiled thoughtfully. "Me too."

* * *

The sky gradually began to darken, and Missy watched it anxiously from the bench Alan had left her on to wait in line for their burgers. Humming quietly to comfort herself, she pulled her legs up and tucked them beneath her. The various attractions of the boardwalk lit up one by one and Missy could not take her eyes off the setting sun. She wasn't sure exactly when after sundown the boys left their cave, but she hoped that the fading rays of the sun were still harmful enough to their vampiric natures that she and Alan would have time to get back to the shop before full dark.

"Sorry it took so long, there was a huge line and are you okay?" Alan's shadow fell across her bench, chasing away the little light she had left. She shuddered.

"I'm fine, let's just go home, okay? It's getting dark." Alan gave her a strange look and held out one of the paper bags he was carrying. Grease was already seeping through the bottom, transforming it translucent, and though the thought of touching it made her cringe, Missy reached out and took it from him.

The lights of the boardwalk slowly overtook the natural light and Missy's heartbeat grew louder and more erratic with every passing second. She could feel Alan's eyes on her, and some part of her realized she must be giving him quite the scare. At the moment, though, she could have honestly said she didn't care.

She nearly took out the customer that was leaving the store when she barreled through the door like her backside was on fire, and the rest of the patrons, and Edgar included, gave her strange looks as she dashed toward the stairs like a crazy person. She stopped at the foot just long enough to chuck the bag she was still holding at Edgar's stunned face, then make for her bedroom, allowing herself to pretend even for the moment that her flimsy door could defend against a pack of vampires. She wondered if blocking her door with the armoire would make a difference. _Probably not, _she mused. They were vampires, after all, what would a little wood mean to them? Unless they tried to break it and a splinter broke off and stabbed them through the heart. Strangely enough, the thought of one of the boys (except David, who was she kidding?) getting staked upset her more than she were vicious, brutal killers, so why couldn't she want them dead? What was the matter with her?

"Missy? Open the door." Edgar's gruff voice came through the thin wood that separated her from the hall, sounding anxious and commanding at the same time.

"Go away. I'm fine." Missy called back, her voice muffled by her knees from where she was huddled on the floor beside her armoire.

"You threw a bag of hamburgers at me. You're not fine." The doorknob moved. "Your door doesn't have a lock on it, Missy, open it or I will."

She must have hesitated long enough because the handle turned and her door swung inward so hard she was sure Edgar had implanted the knob about an inch in her wall. Edgar and Alan rushed into her room, and she was a little bit touched at how concerned they looked. "What's wrong?" Alan crouched down in front of her, but Missy was too busy watching Edgar scour ever inch of her room for potential threats to pay attention to him.

"I said I was okay. I'm just not feeling so well all of the sudden." It sounded weak even to her.

"Why are you on the floor?" Edgar gestured with the stake he was holding at her position (nothing less than fetal) on the floor.

Missy shrugged one bony shoulder. "Seemed like the place to be."

Edgar's thick eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on? You were acting like somebody was chasing you."

Missy was, for a single instant, astonished that Edgar had said "somebody" rather than "something". "Nothing's going on, I guess I was just a little spooked. You guys are always going on about vampires so much it's giving me nightmares." That was close enough to the truth that it didn't make her feel bad.

Apparently it had a different effect on Edgar and Alan, because the teenage pseudo-marines at once looked impressively guilty. "So that's why you haven't been sleeping? Because of us?" Alan mumbled.

_Oh, Alan. _"Not entirely. My imagination is pretty overactive, it's not your fault."

"So you got scared because it was getting dark out?" Edgar still managed to sound incredulous, even looking as remorseful as he did. "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling us everything we need to know."

"Edgar." Missy pushed herself up off the floor using the wall behind her, leveling Edgar with a stony expression, and speaking with what she felt of as absolute honesty. "I swear to you, I've told you everything you need to know." That last thing she wanted was to drag Edgar and Alan into the mess she'd gotten herself into. They knew all they needed to know, and that, she prayed, would keep them safe when David came looking for her. She didn't doubt for one second that when the time came, it would be David who knocked on her door.

_"Did David send you here to "do me in"? Make sure I wouldn't squeal?"_

__

"If that were the case, he would have come himself."

Edgar gave her a look like he was going to argue, and his mouth actually opened for fraction of a second before he let is snap closed again. "Fine. Let's go, Alan." Alan didn't linger this time, his face hardened, and he got up from his crouch and follow his brother without a single word to her. It was better that way, she'd rather have Alan angry than devastated.

* * *

Unlit and without windows, Missy's bedroom was a black as pitch, and she thought that was just fine. She lay curled into a ball on her mattress, the covers still made, and her shoes still on. She pressed her face into the pillow and stifled another sob. She wished that she had never come to Santa Carla in the first place. Death, she had told Dwayne, would be better than Seattle. She supposed she didn't have to worry about making the decision to stay or leave California anymore, David had taken care of her travel arrangements. _Better off dead than with Renee, guess I'll get to experience the alternative firsthand.  
_

She wasn't aware of how much time had passed, only that it was now fully night outside, and any minute might be her last. No matter how depressing her life had been back in Seattle, she had to say that the way she was feeling now topped her hatred of Renee.

There's no feeling worse than hopelessness. "It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul."

_Missy._

She lifted her head a fraction and squinted into the darkness. "Edgar?" She tried. "Alan?"

_Come downstairs, Missy._

Pushing herself up so she was sitting, she turned to face her bedroom door. Her hearing wasn't good enough to hear Edgar and Alan all the way downstairs, and besides, the voice sounded like it was whispering. Still, the feeling kept creeping back into her mind. The desire to get up from her bed and walk down the stairs. She knew that she didn't want to go downstairs, she wanted to stay in her room where she could pretend she was safe for a while longer; but the suggestion came again, and she was at the top of the stairs before she knew she had moved.

Edgar and Alan had their hamburgers and fries spread out on the counter, and they glanced up from their meal as she wandered past them like a somnambulist.

_Outside. _She stepped out into the dark without hesitation, though the rational part of her mind screamed at her feet to turn her back.

"Hello, Missy."

Her heart skipped a beat and the blood in her veins turned to ice.

David was leaning on his bike, his arms crossed, a cigarette dangling from a cruel smirk.

"David." How her voice trembled. She hated herself. She couldn't even pretend to be strong could she?

"If you were strong, you would never have left your room." He purred, and Missy regained control of herself, glaring hotly at him.

"If I was weak, I never would have left Seattle."

David laughter was cool and soft, and more than a little terrifying. "Touché." He tossed his cigarette onto the boardwalk and pressed the toe of his boot into it. Then, quicker than her eyes could follow, he was straddling his bike and encouraging the engine to life. "Let's go for a ride."

"No." If he wanted her, he'd take her kicking and screaming. She wasn't about to let herself be driven off to her death.

David half-smiled, and then his stare intensified.

Missy's head began to swim, and she wobbled, reaching out for the door behind her to steady herself. _It's just a ride. It's safe. Get on the bike. _

"Just a ride." David echoed. "No harm in that, right?"

_Get on the bike. Do it. _Her mind pressed, and Missy was so rattled she couldn't think of why the voice in her head didn't sound like her own. "Okay." Wait, that came out wrong, didn't it? She didn't trust David, she didn't even like him; but for the life of her she couldn't come up with an excuse to get out of getting onto David's bike with him. He was a brutal killer, she was a potential victim. He was a vampire, she was a human. _It's okay to go with him_, her mind told her. _He won't try anything. It's safe._

"Let's go." David's hand felt all wrong wrapped around her tinier one, but she ignored the panic fighting to get out of the corner it had been shut in her mind and slipped her arms around David's middle as he revved his bike's engine. _This is wrong. _Reason tried to claw its way through the fog in her brain, but the bike was moving, and she wasn't thinking about anything anymore.

* * *

Missy didn't remember the ride to the bluff. She didn't remember getting off David's bike and following him down the treacherous wooden stairs to the cave's hidden entrance. The next thing she was aware of was standing in the mouth of the cave, and David standing at the base of the jagged stone steps, his hand extended to her. Missy stared at it until her cloudy mind deduced it was because he meant to help her down. Considering she possessed all the natural grace and coordination of an intoxicated elephant, she knew it would have been prudent of her to accept, but she trusted David about as far as she could throw him (and he'd somehow managed to get her to agree to come to the cave on her own, sneaky rat), and so she hesitated on the top step, eyeing David's gloved hand like he'd offered her a dead fish instead of assistance. David just smirked, big shocker there, and curled his fingers inward slowly as he let his hand drop. Suit yourself, the gesture said, and Missy thought that was just fine. She didn't need his help. She'd managed just fine on her own before, though given her luck, she'd probably wind up falling on her face this time around because she'd been so spiteful.

She felt David's eyes on her the whole time she was climbing down, and the sensation was so similar to having a bunch of snakes crawling over her bare skin that she missed the last step entirely and tumbled headfirst toward the uneven cave floor.

Ground, you know Face? Face, you remember Ground?

David's left arm shot out so fast she didn't even see it until it was pressed against her stomach. She knew he'd done it to keep her from splitting her head open like a soggy melon on the rocky ground, but as much as she appreciated not needing stitches, she was too winded and annoyed to thank him. _Cripes, _she wondered, w_hat are David's arms made of, rock? _Her ribs felt like she'd been socked in the gut with sledgehammer. David was still holding onto her, which was annoying, one of his irritatingly calm smiles on his face, which was even more annoying. He dipped his head so his mouth was all but brushing her ear. "Careful." He said, and it sounded so much like something a lover would whisper that she shuddered. "Wouldn't want you to hit your head. There'd be blood everywhere." She felt something slick and warm run the length from her ear to her temple. "We can't have that."

Missy shoved herself out of David's arm and wiped the back of her hand down the side of her face.

David had licked her.

David had licked her _face_.

She was so disgusted and affronted and not to mention furious that she couldn't seem to get her mouth to work other than to open and close soundlessly like a fish. She made a sound that was something like a choking person would make and she raised both her hands like she was going to throttle David but just ended up wiping her face again. There was no sense attacking David, he'd snap her like a skinny blonde twig and he wouldn't even break a sweat. She didn't even know if vampires could sweat, but that was so far beside the point that she tried not to think about it. At least not at the moment.

"Missy?" For the first time since she'd climbed on the back of his bike, Missy allowed her gaze to wander from David. She had a good reason for wanting to keep her eyes on him, he was a sneaky, dirty rat, and had more than likely brought her to the cave to kill her, so she couldn't exactly afford to give him an edge. Not like he needed one, he was a vampire and she was a human who could hardly walk without risking a self-induced concussion. She was enough of a danger to herself without his help, plus he'd somehow worked his influence on her to get her to agree to go to the cave with him. It wasn't that she felt any safer looking away from David now that she was in the cave, but she knew that voice, and it was difficult not to look for the owner of it.

Her eyes found Paul sitting, more like lounging, on one of the lumpy, faded couches. His feet were propped up on the arm opposite the one his head was on, and he had a joint in his left hand. The other was hidden beneath the shirt of the dark haired girl who was straddling him. Missy flushed a dark red when she realized just what it was she was seeing, and she whipped around to put her back to them. Of course, Paul and his lady friend weren't the only people in the lobby, and turning away from them just put her in the right direction to get an eyeful of Marko and his buxom companion.

Now, she didn't expect a lot of Paul. He was a horndog, and she accepted that, but at least he was up front about the fact that he was a complete hound. Seeing Marko wrist deep in a redhead wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd tee-shirt was just something that caught her completely off guard. To Marko's credit, he managed to look at least a little guilty when he caught her looking, but he didn't remove his hand, and Missy sure wasn't going to ask him to. It was embarrassing enough that she'd seen what he was doing with that hand. Didn't these girls have any shame? Marko was grown, and a vampire besides, she didn't have any right to try and tell him how to behave. Still, it was upsetting, even if she tried to tell herself that she didn't care what he or any of the boys did in their free time, she knew that wasn't true. She cared. Big time. It made her stomach hurt to think of what Marko and Paul were doing with those bimbos, and then she just felt guilty for thinking of the girls as bimbos. Sure, their behavior was distinctly reminiscent of that of a bimbo, but she didn't know either of them (or the other two sitting on either side of Dwayne) enough to be judging them. It was just wrong, and she didn't like herself for it.

"David." The girl sitting to the left of Dwayne, the one who didn't have her tongue down his throat, got up from the couch and grinned like a fiend. A drunk fiend. She slithered across the room towards them. That's right. She slithered. She stopped with about a centimeter between her chest and David's (and that was only when she wasn't inhaling) and slid her hands up his body to wrap around the back of his neck. Missy noticed that she had nice hands, great nails, painted a shocking sparkly pink, the same color as the bra Missy could see (not like it was hard) peeking through the girl's sorry excuse for a shirt. "What took you so long? I missed you." She leaned in and -_Oh yuck_-lapped at David's bottom lip.

David either didn't notice, or more likely, didn't care that Missy was uncomfortable with just about everything that was going on in the cave at the moment, and slipped both of his arms around the blonde's waist. "I had business to take care of." Then he nodded his head in Missy's direction. "This is Missy."

Well, as nice as it was to be included, wait, it wasn't nice; Missy didn't want to be included at all. "Hi."

The other blonde gave her a long look before she responded in kind. "Chantal."

Missy smothered the incredulous expression she could feel wanting onto her face. Like she had any room to be mocking anyone else's name.

Chantal's eyes lingered for longer than Missy was comfortable, and she shifted nervously, even if it was obvious to her that Chantal wasn't eyeing her because she was into her. She was sizing her up. Being that she was a good seven or eight inches taller than Chantal, there was a lot to size. Missy doubted however, that the other girl was in any way intimidated by her height. Chantal was stressing every button on her too tight shirt, and her skirt was an inch or two shy of being a wide belt. She was tan, with nice green eyes, and good teeth, but she needed her roots done. Hands down, Missy would say that the only thing she had on Chantal was that she was a natural blonde, and could fit inside her shirts without risking putting someone's eye out with a button, though Missy kind of figured that was the look she was going for. Adding all that with the raging and obvious waves on unlust David was sending her way, Chantal seemed to be at last satisfied that she had nothing to fear from Missy.

The girl (Missy was still fighting down the term bimbo) turned herself in David's arms again and her hands came up to fiddle with the longer strands of David's hair. "So what sort of business?"

David tilted his head slowly, looking every inch the predator, and his lips curled away to reveal a mysterious grin. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with." David's mouth stopped moving and then Chantal leaned in and both their mouths were moving. Among other things.

Missy forced back a cringe and cleared her throat as politely as she could convince herself to be. "David."

"Take a seat, Missy." David gestured with his unoccupied hand to the spot on the couch beside Dwayne that Chantal had vacated.

Missy eyed the all too empty seat and snorted, though mentally, it was a whimper. "I'll stand, thanks."

Breaking his mouth away, David bared his teeth a fraction and Missy flinched. "Take a seat."

Missy didn't need to be told twice...except, well, she did. She scurried over to the couch, pointedly refusing eye contact with Dwayne and perched herself as delicately as she could on the end of the couch farthest from him. She leaned so her hair slid forward to hang in front of her face, a poor shield against what was going on in the lobby, but the best she could do without drawing David's attention. She didn't expect he'd tolerate her shutting her eyes and covering her ears.

"Missy." David's voice, as much as she wanted to, wasn't something she could ignore. She raised her eyes without moving her head and scanned the cave as carefully (to avoid mental scarring) as possible for the platinum blonde vampire.

David was sitting in a wheelchair on the other side of the lobby, and Missy was for a brief moment struck by the strangeness of the sight. A vampire in a wheelchair, go figure. Chantal was sitting on his lap, her face hidden as she mouthed David's neck, and being very vocal about it, Missy might add. "We have a problem, Missy, wouldn't you say?"

Missy didn't respond, but it didn't seem like David expected her to, because he went on speaking as if he hadn't just asked her a question.

"You are now in possession of knowledge that few mortals have ever had the chance to acquire. At least, none who ever again saw the outside of this cave afterward, at least."

Missy shuddered, but David went on.

"There is no person, living or otherwise, who knows what you know now, save for those of us in this room. It is a dangerous secret."

"I would never tell anyone."

David sighed. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that." His expression turned cruel and mocking. "I swear I won't tell a soul!" David's voice rose in pitch, and it was evident that he was mimicking past victims. "Please, let me go, I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

A tear made its way out of the corner of Missy's eyes against her will. "I don't want to die."

David's eyes followed the path of the tear down her face, and he frowned thoughtfully. "Then you never should have been born."

_Look at me, Missy. _Missy wiped her face and forced herself to meet David's eyes.

"Let me show you what happens to mortals when they see our true faces."

It happened so swiftly that until the screaming started, Missy wasn't sure what had been done. David's face had changed. His eyes morphed into those of a monster, and his mouth filled with fangs. Chantal didn't realize her life was about to end until David yanked her hand away from his chest and held it up to his mouth. "Watch very closely, Missy." David whispered, and then he bit off the first three fingers of Chantal's hand.

That was when the screaming started. Not just from the girl who'd lost most of the fingers on her right hand, but from all over. The screaming to her side was so piercing, and as much as Missy knew she didn't want to look, her head was turning before she could stop herself. The brunette in Dwayne's lap was choking on the blood that had filled her mouth, and she lost the ability to scream as Dwayne's teeth locked firmly in the flesh of her throat. Missy's eyes locked with Dwayne's, no longer dark and beautiful, but cruel and yellow. Dwayne stared hard at her, and then he threw his head back, taking most of his date's esophagus with him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then opened his mouth and spit the piece of the dead girl into Missy's lap.

Missy had never screamed so hard in her life. She scrambled off the couch, swiping at her bloody clothes long after the flesh had been knocked away.

There were some ripping sounds, and then the sound of something very wet and heavy. hitting the cave floor. Blood splashed onto her bare legs from Paul's direction, and Missy barely repressed the urge to be sick as she became aware that he was holding a leg, the rest of his date in a pile on the floor. Missy slipped in the gore as she tried to run away, breaking into sobs, trying not to acknowledge how warm the red was on her arms as she got back up.

A head rolled past her feet, two dark, wet holes where eyes should be; and when she turned to look at Marko, with her face wet with tears and blood, he was licking his fingers clean.

That time she was sick, doubling over and emptying the meager contents of her stomach into a pool of blood until her stomach ached with the effort of trying to force out what would not come. She cried and wiped her face and then cried again when she smeared her face with blood.

"Missy." David was standing beside his wheelchair, Chantal's mostly intact corpse growing cold in the seat he had previously occupied. David threw a handful of fingers at her feet, and Missy shut her eyes, gagging. "This is what we are." He kicked away a severed arm. "This is what happens to mortals when they get too close."

Missy couldn't listen anymore. She tried to block out the screams that still echoed in her mind. _I don't want to die like this. _

David laughed. "What makes you any better than them?" He nodded at the dead. "You think you should be able to pick your manner of death?"

"No one deserves this." Missy didn't need to gesture, they both knew to what she referred.

"Okay, Missy, I'll play along." David pushed the corpse out of his chair and sat back down. His hair, so nearly white, was now mostly red. "Why don't you tell me how you want to die? I want to help. Isn't that what friends do?"

"Go to hell." Missy whispered.

David smirked, and Missy's mind fogged up the way it had back at the comic store. "How about I give you a head start?" _Run, Missy. Hide. _"I wonder how far you'll get."

Missy turned and bolted for the door, scrambling up the steps with more ease than she ever could have managed if she hadn't been afraid for her life. She wasn't sure if she could find her way back to town on her own, but she wasn't about to linger outside the cave in the hopes that one of the boys would suddenly become less of a monster and give her a ride home.

So she ran, ran until her lungs burned so painfully that she doubled over and dry-heaved for a full five minutes until she could move again.

She would never be able to get away. She knew that now. There was no compromising with a monster. She could run as far and fast as she liked, but she wouldn't ever be able to reclaim what she knew she'd lost.

Her life ended the minute she set foot in Santa Carla.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	17. Exsanguination and Other Useful Terms

**Loyal readers, please do not think for one moment that I would ever abandon this story, even if I go months without updating it. Rest assured that I have not forgotten Missy or the boys, and I will keep writing this story until the end. Whenever that will be. If you are still reading this, thank you. I know I am perfectly horrid for taking so long to get the next chapter put up, and it means a lot to me that there are some of you out there that are sticking this thing out with me. So don't doubt that I still care about this epic fail of a fic, not even for a second, and please bear with me if it takes another couple of months to update, because as someone very wise once said (while wearing his robe and boxers, I might add) "Writing is hard!" Please enjoy chapter seventeen. Oh, and make sure you review so you can tell me how much I suck for taking so long. So bring it. Make it good and full of angry punctuation, kiddies. My muse eats your reviews for breakfast.**

* * *

_"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace." _

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

Rain can wash away a lot of things. Sweat. Tears. Blood, even. The one thing it can't erase, is where they came from to begin with.

Missy thought about how different streets looked when the sun was down, instead of why her clothes had been wet long before the rain started. The street she walked was empty, the moon shining bright on the glassy, wet asphalt like the surface of a dark lake. She wondered what the street looked like during the day. Beneath the streetlight at the mouth of a residential neighborhood, she stared down the darkness surrounding and wished she could be like the people in the houses around her. Happy, safe, and warm. Heck, she'd settle for just safe and warm. It wasn't like she had a lot of practice with happy. It was a new enough feeling for her that she wouldn't miss it, and was one besides, that she was beginning to believe she wasn't meant for. But hey, two out of three ain't bad. She'd even trade the warm part if she could get a little ignorance with her safety. Whoever said ignorance was bliss had no clue how right they were. There were few of the houses around her with lights still on, and she couldn't help wishing she could go back to the age when all it took to keep the monsters away was a nightlight. How many of these people had crossed paths with the boys on the boardwalk and been entirely clueless as to how close they'd been to death.

She tipped her head back and watched the streetlight flicker, the dark bodies of the moths that had come out now that the rain seemed to have stopped tapping rhythmically against the yellowed glass. Seattle seemed a heck of a lot more than eight-hundred miles away. Fighting with Renee, ditching school; she tried to remember when that life had ever been hers. In her head she saw a sad teenager, and her bitter young stepmother, both as miserable and alone as each other, but both too angry to recognize it. When had that Missy been lost, and who was she now if not her?

Did it make her a coward for running? Should she have held her ground against David, surrounded by viscera and her skin slick with the blood of those poor girls? David would have killed her, was in fact still planning to. Was she weak like David had said? She didn't want to meet the person who could take heads and fingers being thrown at them without blanching. Anyone who could look a bunch of bloodthirsty vampires in the eye without flinching was someone Missy didn't want to run into down a dark alley. Or a bright one, for that matter. That begged the question, if running and fighting might be the wrong responses, what was the right one? Could vampires be reasoned with? Was it sane to even attempt to? They weren't human, not really, but they used to be. Or at least that was what the books and movies said. She was no vampire expert, and didn't claim to be, but the time she'd spent with them that hadn't involved gore being thrown at her had been mostly civil, proving that they were at least capable of having a rational conversation eighty-five percent of the time. David however, didn't remotely strike her as the kind of person, or vampire, who'd want to sit down with her and listen to a seven-part plea for her life; and she knew that regardless of what the others thought of her, if David wanted her dead, she was better off starting her will now.

Her feet throbbed against the insides of her shoes, matching the steady painful rhythm of her steps and sending burning shock-waves straight up her legs and into her hips. Her muscles cried out for the rest she couldn't afford to concede, and she tried to think of something other than the growing pain in her sides. Or the blood she could feel congealing where the rain hadn't reached, tacky on the backs of her knees and down the front of her shirt. Every couple of minutes, _just a little further_, she would promise her legs, then walk some more. Maybe if she'd lived in Santa Carla longer than she had, or investigated more beyond the boardwalk (what had to be one small part of the town, she assumed), she might have had some clue where she was, or where she was headed. As it was, she was lost beyond words. It wasn't like she could knock on a stranger's door in the middle of the night, her clothes stained with blood that wasn't hers, and ask them for directions. Well, she could if she wanted the police to show up fast enough to make her head spin.

It wasn't until around the seventeenth or so "just a little further" that she was led by chance and the aimless wandering of her reluctant feet to the end of the residential neighborhood, where she discovered a small, white church. Now, though she had grown up believing in a God, her family had never been especially religious (despite the popular notion that the two are synonymous, you can have one without the other), and she distinctly remembered her father nearly decking one of her more distant relatives for saying "The Lord works in mysterious ways." at her mother's funeral. Having faith was all well and good, but to write off something horrible and tragic as the mysterious actions of an omnipotent and capricious deity is just plain idiotic. She hadn't understood at the time, the cause of her father's ire. She'd heard him quote the very same numerous times in her young life, and when she asked him later on, after they'd changed out of their black clothing, he'd told her plainly that he and God weren't on speaking terms anymore. She supposed it was easy for the man from her mother's funeral to have faith when it wasn't his life that was going to pieces. Her father had just lost one of the two people in his life that meant the most to him, Missy could understand why he wasn't happy with God.

Her lack of a religious upbringing notwithstanding, Missy had many fond memories of churches, of her grandmother taking her to church on Sunday, and to the little church down the street from the hospital when her father went to visit her mother. It became apparent after the first two visits that seeing her daughter only made Marie Van Buren's condition worse, and so Missy spent several hours a day with her grandmother, looking at the beautiful pictures in the stained glass, while her father tried to bring his wife back from the brink.

She supposed it was a little silly, but the sight of the little white church with its dark wood doors filled her with an immediate warmth and comfort. She didn't honestly believe that the doors would stand up against any one of the boys. She didn't think there was any substance in the world that could keep a vampire out if he was set on getting in, but she wanted to pretend for the moment that she could hide from what was happening to her, and inside a church was just as good a place as any. Besides, she was sick to death of walking, and the promise of getting to sit for a while was too sweet to let go of.

She marched up to the doors and froze right in front of them. The doors were made of heavy, dark wood (she didn't know what kind because she was a part-time cashier at a comic book store, not a carpenter), and both of them were carved with intricate depictions of passages from the Bible. Beneath the picture on the left door was carved the word 'Hope', and the right 'Peace'. "Naturally." She grumbled acridly, wrapping her hand around the handle of the right door, giving a weak yank. "Peace, sure." She was grateful however, that this was one of the few churches that still practiced the habit of never locking their doors, if it hadn't been, she would have been sorely out of luck.

The inside of the church wasn't all that warm, but it was dry. Missy hovered a step inside the door, feeling immensely guilty for standing inside a house of God after the things she had seen, covered in what she was covered in. She snuck a glance at the tall stone basins that stood just inside the doors, one on either side of her. They were decorated with gold-plated crosses on both sides, and filled with water, and it took her mind a vastly unreasonable amount of time to realize what she was looking at. _Well, _she thought, _beggars can't be choosers. _Besides, holy water was still water, and she needed to get out of her bloody clothes before someone saw her and called the cops. Somehow she didn't think "Oh, no, this isn't blood, officers. I just came from a pizza party." was going to fly. Though, she had a feeling she was going to get a first-class ticket to Hell if she yanked down a church's curtains to used as a towel. Sighing, she turned left and right, looking for something she could use as clothes until she got home that wouldn't be complete sacrilege. In the corner, not five feet from where she was standing, she spotted a green plastic container with a sign on it. Edging closer to the box, she realized that the sign read "Charity Clothing Drop-off. Luke 3:11." Making a small noise of joy deep in her throat, she smiled. Maybe there was someone upstairs looking out for her after all.

Taking the top off the bin and digging in, it became quickly apparent to her why these clothes had been donated to charity. They were each and every one of them perfectly hideous, but then, she told herself, again, beggars really couldn't be choosers. She would take whatever would fit at the moment. Her hands finally found something that was...passable. It was a pale blue sundress, with lace trimming around the bust and hem, and a pattern of white flowers with pink centers. It wasn't _completely _horrendous, but it did look like something a fifties house-wife would be wearing when she showed up to greet her hubby at the front door with his slippers and a martini. It was something she never would have considered wearing outside of dire circumstances. Unfortunately, her circumstances fell just inside the realm of dire, not to mention, after checking the dress' nearly faded tag, she realized it was also her size exactly. She sighed, reminding herself about desperation and being persnickety and dumped the rest of the clothes back into the box. She carried her new dress back over to the basin, draping it over the back of the nearest pew. She aimed a mental thank you at the big man upstairs for at least giving her the privacy of an empty church and unclasped the straps of her overalls, letting them drop to the floor around her ankles. She stepped out of them and tugged her shirt up over her head, shivering as the cool air attacked her exposed skin. She groaned in relief when she discovered that her undergarments, while dampened from the rain, were blood-free. That was a blessing in and of itself, because stripping down to her skivvies was one thing, but she half expected to be smote righteously if she took off her panties in church.

Retrieving her shirt from the floor, she grabbed the only portion of it that wasn't bright red, and dipped it into the holy water. She brought the wet cloth to her skin, scrubbing briskly at the parts of her that were red rather than white, trying not to think about how she was going to tell Edgar that she'd had to throw away his apology present.

She froze, half-way bent over to wipe away the blood on the backs of her legs, as the thought of Edgar's name brought tears to her eyes. She was such an idiot. Here she was, washing blood off herself with a ruined shirt and trying to work out how she was going to explain said shirt's absence to someone she was never going to see again, regardless. David was going to find her and kill her, that much was obvious, she just couldn't be sure when. She couldn't go home, she didn't want to give David and his boys any reason to go after Edgar and Alan. She loved the little idiots, much as she didn't want to admit it. If someone had asked her before coming to Santa Carla if it was possible to develop fondness for someone in so short a period as she'd known the Frogs, she'd have said they were crazy. But she knew without a doubt she felt for them the same she'd felt her father, or her grandparents. Her heart ached at the thought of not even getting to say goodbye to them, but she wouldn't let David near them if she could help it. She'd keep them safe if it was the last thing she did, which, all things considered, it probably would be.

When her skin was clean, she retrieved a plain looking shirt from the charity box, dried herself, and then wrapped her soiled clothes up with it. She buried the only evidence of what she'd seen as deep in the trash can as she could, hoping against hope that when the trash was emptied the next day, no one would think to unravel her sordid bundle. Or, at the very least, that by that point in the day, there would be enough trash on top of it to keep it hidden. Returning to where she'd left the dress, she lifted the soft, cotton garment over her head and slipped her arms up and through the inch-thick straps. She tugged and shimmied the dress into place, both bemoaning and celebrating the fact that it fit her perfectly. Leaning over the water, she checked her hair for red, running her fingers through the damp strands. Other than being flattened from all the rain, she decided she could live with it. At least there wasn't anything gross in it.

She crouched down on the floor and picked up one of her old, once-green sneakers, nearly cursing when she realized how beyond saving they were. She could have sworn, but since she'd already stripped down nearly naked and bathed in holy water, she figured any more blasphemy and she really would be going to Hell, no two ways about it. After her shoes had joined her clothes in the trash bin, she padded up to the front of the church, flopping into the first pew on the right side.

Missy watched the candles that had mostly like been set during evening mass flicker, thinking, because she couldn't help it, how dangerous it was to leave candles burning with no one to watch them. She sniffed back the sudden rush of tears that hit her, as the helplessness of her situation sank in, coupled with the fact that she now had no shoes, and was contemplating candles rather than the serious situation she found herself in. As much as she hated to entertain the thought, she had to wonder: What else could possibly go wrong today?

* * *

"Young lady?"

When would she learn not to ask that question? It was common knowledge that it was never wise to challenge the universe's creativity. Ever. Nothing good has ever come from tempting the fates by asking: "Is that all you got?"

Turning her head, Missy eyed the man who had spoken to her. He was a nice-enough looking older man, with hair that was completely gray, and big, round glasses with black frames. He was also the pastor, though his street-clothes argued differently, Missy could see part of his vestments hanging out of the bag he was carrying.

"Are you alright?" He went on to say, his face shining with genuine concern that Missy was certain was a rare thing in a town like Santa Carla.

She wanted to laugh. She also wanted to cry. "I'm nowhere near alright."

The pastor frowned and set his bag down on the floor.

Missy's brain gave a sigh. She didn't need a pep talk, she just wanted to be left alone, but any hope of that had gone right out the proverbial window.

"If you're in trouble, perhaps I can help."

Missy forced a weak smile for him. "Thank you, but no one can help me."

The pastor smiled. "No one is ever beyond help who asks for it, my dear. Tell me, what troubles you?"

Missy debated inside herself for a long time. She couldn't exactly come out and confess that she'd watched a couple of vampires rip up a bunch of girls like wet tissue paper without earning herself a one-way ride to the loony bin, but she knew that if she didn't get the weight off her chest soon, she was going to suffocate. "Do you believe in demons?" She said at last, tucking her hair behind her left ear as she waited for the inevitable response.

"Of course." The father replied with a sober nod of his head.

Missy tilted her head to study him, a frown forming as she chewed on her chapped lower lip. Her brows knitted together as she spoke. "Speaking figuratively?"

The pastor stared at her for an uncomfortably long stretch of time, and Missy didn't have to be a mind reader to know he was debating calling the cops to come and pick up the crazy girl hanging out in the church in the middle of the night. She just hoped she looked pitiful and harmless enough that he wouldn't think she was dangerous. "I believe that humans have plenty of capacity for doing evil without any supernatural assistance."

_You don't know the half of it, Padre._

Missy thought of Paul and Marko and how they had torn into their victims, when the night before they had been sweet and harmless to her. They had made her laugh. "Is it possible for someone to do something really, unspeakably horrible one day, but still be kind of good?" She couldn't believe she was even entertaining the thought. Marko had kicked a head at her. An eye-less head, she might add.

"Well," the pastor began. "my mother used to tell me that one aspect of a person's character does not rule out another. A good person isn't bad because they do a bad thing, just as a bad person's deeds cannot be forgiven with a single good act. It takes more than one sin to make a sinner, and more than one bad deed to break a saint."

Clearly what was her definition of a bad deed and the father's differed greatly. She wasn't speaking of shop-lifting or telling a lie. "What if a person...a mostly good person, had to do something evil to survive?"

"What kind of evil?"

No point dancing around it, she figured. "What if they had to kill people to survive, like animals do?"

The look that crossed the father's face was nothing short of horrified. "No man has to kill to survive, my dear. That choice is what separates us from animals."

"Hypothetically." Missy stressed. "Like say, like vampires have to in the movies. If it was something like that, either dying or killing someone?" Was a necessary evil still an evil? What if the choice was between being a monster and death? Wasn't much of a choice if you asked her, but at some point or another, David, his boys, Star, and Laddie had all made that same decision. She wondered what the circumstances would have to be to get a normal rational person to agree to murder. Or if the boys had all been raving psychopaths from the start. Murder for the sake of survival was still murder, wasn't it?

"I do not think," the pastor began. "that you should concern yourself with contemplation over fictional creatures."

"Humor me?" Missy pleaded.

The father sighed. "Well, I would think if there were such a creature, if he had any sort of conscience, he would first end his existence rather than do harm to another living creature."

"The Bible says suicide is a sin."

"So is murder."

Anyone with half a brain can tell when they've reached the point in a conversation where nothing can be gained from having it beyond that. Missy, thankfully, had at least that much of a brain, and smiled briefly at the pastor. "Thank you." She said. For all the help he hadn't been, he had tried, and the decorum that had been ingrained in her since she was small argued that she should thank him, at least for that.

The pastor beamed and adjusted his glasses, reaching down with one hand to retrieve his bag. "You are welcome, my dear."

Missy stared up at him, a thousand and one thoughts bouncing around her frazzled head, but one was closer to the surface than the rest. "Is it alright if I sit here for a while?"

"Take as long as you need. Our door are always open." The pastor made like he was turning to go, then stopped. "But be careful when you leave, it is late, especially for a young woman to be walking around."

Missy almost snorted. Almost, but then she remembered where she was and who she was talking to. "I'll be careful. Promise."

The pastor smiled again, adjusting his grip on the handle of his bag. "See that you do." He was serious then. "I'm afraid this town is not as safe as it used to be for young people these days."

Missy half smiled. "Tell me about it."

"Goodnight." The pastor nodded his head solemnly and then headed for the door.

"Goodnight, Father." He was almost to the door when Missy called out to him again. "Father?"

He stopped, turning his head to acknowledge her over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"You should be careful too." Missy bit her lip, releasing it a moment later so she could speak. Shrugging, she said "It's not really safe for anyone these days." and frowned.

The pastor gave her a long, strange look, his smile fading. "I will."

Missy listened to the door open and shut; a steady, quiet creak, then a loud, unsettling thud. She stared down at her bare toes, enjoying the dark, quiet of the church as she counted the pale freckles that dusted the tops of her feet. She thought about what the pastor had said. _One aspect of a person's character does not rule out another. _David and his boys _were _monsters, and she couldn't allow herself to forget that they could each of them kill her with their bare hands, just because they acted friendly (with the exception of David, who was cruel and patronizing, and Dwayne, who was more often than not, silent and frosty) some of the time. At the same time, the same vein of logic argued that she couldn't write them off as strictly monsters, because they weren't bad all the time.

"Ugh." Her head hurt, physically and mentally. Her stomach felt queasy even still, with nothing left to bring up after all the blood and gore was out of sight, if not mind. Her feet and legs ached from running(an athlete she was not), and all she wanted to do was sleep until her mind felt at ease again. "What am I going to do?" When her life had progressed from a tragedy to a B-Horror flick was anyone's guess, but she would have traded anything to switch it back. Or trade up for a stupid romantic comedy. Wouldn't her life with the Frogs make the perfect sitcom? Sans vampires, naturally. She'd even be satisfied with a crappy teen drama. Regular teenage drama was boys and clothes, not boys-who-were-secretly-murderous-vampires and washing blood out of clothes. She wondered who she'd have to contact to get one of those life trades, because to be honest, someone else's life was sounding unbelievably good to her just then.

_What if their life sucked worse than yours?_ Missy flinched, despite herself, slamming her eyes shut and praying for the voice to be a fabrication of her own distraught subconscious. A hallucination brought on by fear, exhaustion, and hysteria. _Like cross-eyed, snaggle-toothed, hunch-back worse?_

She opened her eyes, peering around her into the darkness, for the owner of the disembodied voice. No one was hiding in the pews behind her, that she could see, and the door was still closed. "Throw in a club foot and a speech impediment and I'd still take it." She muttered, her head turning which and every way possible, eyes roaming in the low light of the candles. "And you've got a lot of nerve talking to me like we're friends."

_I thought we were friends. _The voice in her head replied, entirely unaffected by her acerbic tone. The voice was playful, faintly sulky, and somehow inexplicably lascivious for what it was actually saying. She knew at once who it was.

Leave it to Paul to make even the voice in his head sound dirty.

"I got hit with _fingers _today, Paul. _Fingers. _Marko kicked a head at me. You are not my friend." She hissed in reply, swiveling to stare over the back of her pew at the door. "Where are you?"

The vampire's voice was echoing brightly in her head almost immediately in response. _Outside. _

Missy thought on that before she replied, furrowing her brow. "Why?" Paul had never struck her as the kind of person with self-control, she would have expected him to just saunter through the front door and sit right down beside her.

_Because I didn't feel like putting out my cigarette. Waste not, _a strange sound like Paul was exhaling smoke, _want not._

Missy blinked.

_That was a joke, by the way. Shit, you really don't watch the movies, do you?_ She could hear the grin in his (mental, how messed up was her life) voice, but that didn't make it any less annoying._  
_

"Meaning?" Missy mumbled, turning sideways and tucking her legs up against her chest. So she hadn't paid that close attention to any of the vampire films she'd seen, then again, she hadn't really expected her life to become one later on.

_We can't come on hallowed ground. _We, no doubt, meaning vampires.

Missy shivered, frowning into her knee-caps. Identifying the boys as bloodthirsty killers, even after what she'd witnessed, was going to take some getting used to. "So what happens if you do?"

_No clue. _Paul replied, nice as pie, considering not that long before he was ripping a girl's throat out.

Missy picked at a thread hanging from the lace on the bust of her dress, fraying it with her thumbnail. "You've never tried before?"

_Nope. _He popped the 'P', and if it weren't for the fact that she couldn't see him, she could have sworn they were standing face to face, how close he sounded.

"Then," She maneuvered so she was kneeling on the pew, gripping the back in her pale, clammy hands. The wood was warm from where her body had been pressed to it. "How do you know it would hurt you?"

Paul snorted. _You need to be hit by a bus to know it sucks?_

"Right." She mumbled. That was comforting, at least mildly. She knew that she could wait Paul out if she had to. Sunrise was an inevitability. Like death and taxes. Except not so much the former, if David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko had anything to say about it. All she had to do was sit still and try not to let Paul's internal monologue drive her crazy. With any luck, he'd get bored, but he'd have to leave at some point, regardless, before the sun came up. Unless he wanted to become a crispy critter.

Paul groaned. _Oh lighten up, would you? If I was here to kill you, you'd be dead already._

"I watched a bunch of innocent girls get slaughtered today." Slutty, but still mostly innocent. "How exactly am I supposed to lighten up after that?"

Paul's voice came back, exasperated for a reason Missy couldn't fathom. It wasn't like he was a seventeen old girl being stalked by a vampire. _What's your problem?_

"You're a vampire!" Missy squeaked, flailing her arms even if Paul couldn't see the gesture of hysteria. Her hands were shaking when she lowered them back onto pew, and she stared at them. Pale, thin, with long fingers and short nails, and more light-colored freckles.

_Didn't seem to bother you last night._

"Yeah, well," Missy grumbled, flopping back down in her pew and picking at the hem of her dress. "someone telling you they're a vampire is a heck of a lot different than showing them."

_Don't be such a broken record. _Paul whined.

"David's trying to kill me!" Missy shouted, well aware that she was sitting in a church, having an argument _in her mind_, with a vampire, who was outside.

There was no part of this that wasn't messed up.

Paul laughed, and she hated the way it made her want to not hate him. _Trust me, sweetheart, he isn't._

Missy could have tugged her hair out. "So all that back at the cave, that was, what do you call that?"

_You're kind of missing the point, Miss. David doesn't _try _to kill someone, he just kills them. _

That was not as comforting as she was sure Paul meant it to be. "So why'd he let me live?"

_Your guess is as good as mine, babe.  
_

Missy dropped her forehead onto her knees again, giving a tiny, half-hearted scream into her skin. "That makes me feel _so _much better."

_Besides, like I said before, if David sent me here to kill you, I'd have just done it already. Patience ain't exactly my biggest virtue._

It was Missy's turn to laugh. "You can't even get through the door."

Paul was silent for a minute. Then, he replied, _I don't need to, _and Missy's heart skipped a beat.

She licked her lips, then tentatively, she whispered. "You going to throw something at me?"

_How do you think David got you to go with him? _

It was the nonchalance of the question that got to her. He might as well have been asking how she took her coffee. As it was, Missy's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" Then it hit her, and she gasped. The little voice in her head. The reason she'd left her room and gone downstairs to meet David in the first place. Why she'd gotten on his bike with him, despite trusting him as far as she could throw him. "Mind control?" She whispered.

Paul made a 'tch' noise. _More like the power of suggestion._Missy fell silent, watching the shadows that the candles cast on the wall. She was never going to be safe. There was nowhere she could hide, not when any one of the boys could command her to walk outside. Heck, Paul could tell her to hang herself from the rafters right now and she wouldn't be able to refuse.

_So...you gonna come outside, or what?_

"Don't hold your breath."

_Come on, don't make me beg, girl. _

Missy frowned, trying to figure out how it was that Paul could make her feel guilty for not wanting to jump on the back of his bike with him after what he'd done earlier. What must be wrong with her if she could even entertain the thought of going anywhere with a murderer. Even one that liked to pretend he wasn't most of the time. "What do you want from me?" She said at last, no louder than a sigh.

Paul hesitated for a fraction of a hundredth of a second. _Nothing I can say in a church, baby._

Missy laughed, despite herself. "Technically you aren't in a church, you're outside of one."

_Come on. _Paul's voice whined in her head.

"Oh, don't whine." Missy made a disgusted sound. "How old are you?"

_I'm young at heart. Now get your skinny ass out here._

Missy patted the pew beside her, startling herself with a loud, solid thunk. "I think I'll stay in the vampire-proof church, thanks."

_Do you want me to make a scene? 'Cause I will.  
_  
"Go ahead and embarrass yourself if you want, I'm not coming out." Missy folded her arms across her chest obstinately. She'd let him make an ass out of himself if he wanted. Besides, it was late, and she sincerely doubted that anyone would be looking out of their houses to see Paul behaving like, well, like Paul.

_Okay. _Paul sighed, sounding entirely put-upon. _I'm leaving, but I'm coming back with my rock box. And I'm gonna serenade you._

Missy blanched. "Someone would call the cops on you."

_They wouldn't even be able to hear me, girl._

The big fat 'duh' hit her again, and Missy's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare."

_You wanna bet?_

Missy turned so she could stare at the closed door. "You're really going to use threats to get me to come outside?"

_Well, I'd get down on my knees, but you can't see me._

"Why are you trying to get me outside so hard? Is David out there with you?" Missy squinted, like maybe she could see through the door if she tried hard enough. "How do I know you're not just trying to lure me outside so he can kill me?

_Anybody ever tell you you're really paranoid?_

"Wasn't really much of a problem before I had a gang of vampire stalkers." Missy shot back.

_Touché. Look outside._

Missy bit her lip. "There aren't any windows."

_So open the door._

"How do I know you won't reach through and yank me outside?"

_One too many movies, Miss. I told you, hallowed ground, I can't even touch the grass, I'm all the way across the street._

Missy furrowed her brow, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat so hard her whole hand turned white. "How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know this whole hallowed ground thing is true? Marko said you can't take everything in the movies at face value." She knew nothing about real vampires. Heck, a couple of days ago she hadn't even believed in vampires.

_So when I get back I'll make sure to tell the little professor you were paying attention. _

Missy stared at her feet, overwhelmed. Why couldn't Paul and the boys be normal, rowdy bikers? "Give me one reason, Paul. You've lied to me from the start. Terrified me. You've done nothing at all but try and make me not trust you. So give me one good reason why I should believe anything you say now?"

_'Cause we could've killed you a dozen times before now and you know it._

Missy scrubbed viciously at her watering eyes, whispering into the crook of her arm. "I don't want to die, Paul."

_Hey, I really don't wanna kill you, girl._

"But you will if David says so."

_You never did something you didn't wanna just because your family told you to?_

Missy shook her head, sniffing quietly. "My family's been dead for a long time, Paul."

Paul didn't answer for a while, and it was around the eight minute mark that Missy began to consider the notion that he had gone. Several long, silent minutes after that, Paul's voice whispered inside her mind again.

_Come outside. _

It wasn't a command, and Missy didn't feel compelled to answer it against her will, like she had with David. Even so, Missy let her legs slide off the bench, the rest of her following not long after. She knew it was beyond idiotic, and dangerous, besides, but she wanted to trust Paul. She wanted to pretend that maybe she might not have to die after all.

* * *

Missy didn't say a word as she pushed one of the doors open just far enough to stick her head out, eyes roaming around the dark street outside until they located the leggy, blonde vampire standing beneath a white alder tree across the street. She spotted the cherry of his cigarette first, then his arm shot up in the air, gesticulating violently. Her left arm came out to join her head and neck, and she waved back with little to no enthusiasm. _See? Just me. Promise. _

"I'm crazy." Missy mumbled, slipping her body through the thin crack in the door she'd opened, letting go of the handle so the door slammed shut behind her. "Absolutely," she took a step away from the door. "without a doubt," and another. "one-hundred percent," she took a deep breath as she stepped off the curb and into the street. "bona fide, certified, out of my mind."

"Yeah." Paul drawled, once she was close enough to get the full benefit of it, letting his cigarette butt drop to the ground. "But we wouldn't like you if you weren't."

Missy twitched a little, fisting her hands in the fabric of her dress as she studied the vampire who wasn't tearing her throat out. He looked the same as he usually did, big, bushy blonde hair, blue eyes, horrible fashion sense. She eyed his suspiciously clean clothes and the morbid portion of her brain couldn't help but wonder how they managed to get all the blood out.

"Salt and club soda. You'd be amazed."

Missy glowered. "You're not funny."

Paul smirked. "I'm a little funny."

So, she was outside, and she was still alive. So far so good, but then Paul's hand was a centimeter away from her face and Missy squeaked, shutting her eyes and preparing for her no doubt swift and impending demise. The vampire rolled his eyes, flicking her solidly on the forehead with his middle finger. "Chill out, girl."

Missy smacked his hand, glaring. "I'd like to see you be so devil-may-care in my shoes, buddy."

Paul shifted his leg and tapped the top of her right foot with the toe of his boot. "You're not wearing shoes."

"It's a metaphor, Paul."

Missy watched him shrug. "I'm already a vampire, remember? I was in your shoes once."

Stunned at that, Missy almost didn't reply. "So what did you do?"

One corner of Paul's mouth turned up. "Freaked."

"And?"

Paul shrugged again. "And nothing."

"You didn't hesitate? Not even a little? Knowing you would have to kill people?" So maybe Paul had been a psychopath from the get-go, after all.

"I'm gonna live forever, Miss, what's wrong with that?" Paul tossed his hair and grinned rakishly. "I get to sleep all day and party all night."

"And kill people." Missy stressed, like she was speaking to a child.

Paul made a "pft" sound and winked at her. "Small price to pay for looking this good for eternity."

"Remind me why I came out here again?" Missy asked through lips that felt numb.

"Star told Laddie you promised he could see you today."

Missy deadpanned. "I sort of made that promise before you guys decided to scare me into congestive heart failure."

"He's a kid. They're sticklers for that promise shit." As much as the thought of upsetting Laddie upset her by proxy, she was never going near that cave again if she could help it. "Jeez, relax, would you? They're on the boardwalk." Paul grumbled.

"Define they." Because if David's name was anywhere near that definition, she was going straight back inside the church and waiting till sunrise. So maybe the sun wouldn't be up for hours more, but she could hold out. She'd survived Renee for five years, she could handle a stand-off with a pot-head vampire.

Paul gave her a look and started putting up fingers. "They. Star, Laddie, Dwayne, and Marko."

Missy blinked. "Not David?"

Paul blinked back at her, a teasing smile on his lips. "Not David, he had something else to do."

What that something else was, Missy was certain she didn't want to know. "I don't know what I'm doing." She admitted. "I shouldn't be thinking about going anywhere with you. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

Paul jammed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "So why are you?"

Missy thought about it, then tilted her head, frowning. "I have no idea."

Paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her firmly against the side of his body, his other hand coming up to ruffle her slowly drying hair. "Guess you're as crazy as we are, huh?"

"Guess so." Missy did her best to remain relaxed and unclenched beneath Paul's arm, failing, naturally. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she was uncomfortable, and Paul was really far from a rocket scientist.

Paul grunted and lifted his arm. "Happy?"

"Thank you." Missy said, and meant it.

Paul didn't say anything to that, just sauntered on over to his bike and swung his leg over it. He let the machine roar for a couple of seconds after starting it, the noise fading gradually to a low purr. "Oh, by the way," he said, smirking as she edged nervously closer to the bike. "nice dress. Did you get pearls with that thing, June?"

"Shut up." Missy snapped, with absolutely no venom at all, slinging her arm around Paul's shoulder for support as she climbed on behind him. She was faced then, with a problem that Star must face on a daily basis. Where to stick her bare feet without risking losing them.

"What happened to your shoes, anyway?" Paul mumbled as he leaned down over the side and reached for her foot.

Missy moved it out of the way before he could touch it, shooting him a dark look. "Don't be stupid. You know very well what happened to my clothes, and my shoes."

A look crossed Paul's face like he actually had forgotten. "Right." He said, and tapped the place where she should put her foot with his index and forefinger before straightening up. "You think that's why Star doesn't wear shoes either?"

"I don't know. I'll ask."

"Cool."

Yeah, okay, Paul had definitely smoked his brains away.

* * *

As it turned out, the church she'd taken shelter in was only a fifteen minute ride from the boardwalk. Missy was so close to home now that she could taste it, but Paul veered his bike in an entirely different direction than the comic store, navigating right through the throng of locals and tourists alike, parting them like the red sea did for Moses. They threw themselves out of the way, shouting obscenities at them, and Paul just threw his head back and _laughed_.

The bright lights and noise wrapped around Missy like a loud, obnoxious, blanket that reeked of fried foods and sugar, and she tried to relax, to enjoy things while they lasted. Her mind wouldn't allow her to, reminding her pointedly every couple of minutes that even if Paul wouldn't kill her in public, all he had to do was work his mind mojo on her, and she'd follow him to a secluded part of the beach, where he'd have all the peace and quiet he needed to kill her.

"Quit thinking so much," Paul barely turned his head, shouting over the noise of the boardwalk around them and his bike beneath them.

"Kind of a force of habit, Paul." She grumbled back, well aware that Paul would hear her no matter how quietly she said it. "Not like it's something I can switch off." She felt Paul's abdominal muscles jump beneath her hands as he laughed.

"I do it all the time!" He crowed. Adding in as sober a tone as he could manage, "Don't worry, we'll work on it."

"Thanks." Missy replied half-heartedly, watching the whirring scenery around them slow and slow until the bike came to a complete stop, a couple yards or so from the carousel, and right next to the other two motorcycles already waiting. She couldn't see either Dwayne or Marko anywhere in the immediate vicinity, and believe it, she was really looking. She did see Star though, hovering near the stand where you purchased tickets for the merry-go-round, and Laddie, a little ways away from her, kicking something that looked like an empty soda can. The ten year old's head shot up and in her direction a few seconds before Star's did, and Missy could only assume they had picked up on her thoughts.

_Stupid mind reading vampires._

Someone snickered beside her, and she whipped around to see Marko and Dwayne standing on the opposite side of the bike, the shorter, blonder of the two trying and failing to hide a smile behind his fist. "That'd be stupid mind reading _half-_vampires," Marko held up his hands and smiled softly to mollify her when she glared at him. "technically speaking."

"Don't think for a second that just because I'm here I've forgotten what you did tonight."

"Good." Dwayne replied, his dark eyes searing her straight to her core. "Make sure that doesn't change."

Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon.

"Missy! Missy!" A blur of gray and brown rocketed into Missy's lower body so hard she stumbled back a foot, her breath rushing out of her in a loud "Oof!".

"Hey Laddie." She greeted him, lifting both hands to pat his head and back respectively. "Are you feeling better today?" She felt him nod vigorously against her stomach, but he didn't move otherwise. "That's good."

"Missy, I'm so sorry." Star must have drifted over at some point, because she was making forlorn eyes at Missy and twisting a bright, sequined scarf in her nervous hands.

"What did you do now?" Missy sighed, and while Paul and Marko laughed loudly, Star remained quiet, looking even more miserable.

_I tried to warn you about the boys._Missy's eyes widened, and she snuck a glance at the boys. Paul and Marko were shoving each other, arguing about something, and Dwayne was staring at Laddie, still wrapped around her middle like a clingy, half-undead belt. None of them seemed to be picking up what Star was broadcasting. Clearly, this message was for Missy and Missy alone. _I'm so, so sorry._

"Uh," Missy said first, out loud, before she caught herself. _Sorry isn't a band-aid, Star._ Naturally, as she wasn't a vampire of any degree, she wasn't able to send it out on the private bandwidth that Star had used, and it became quickly apparent from their matching expressions that the boys had heard her, and they were none too pleased about it. Missy tilted her at the three of them, chewing on part of her lip. "You know, if you keep that up, your faces are going to be stuck like that forever." She lifted a hand then and patted Laddie's head again. "Can you let go of me now, sweetie? Oxygen is kind of becoming an issue here."

The little half-vampire yanked his arms away so fast the movement was nothing but a blur to Missy's eyes, and then he was taking a step or two back from her. His exuberant smile changed, becoming at once mischievous enough to rival Marko's best, and he flashed the curly-haired boy a look that entirely too smug to look natural on a ten year old. "Told you so."

"He's right." Dwayne smacked the shorter vampire's shoulder, cracking a barely there smile. "Pay up."

Missy watched Marko fish a handful of cash out of his jacket pocket. "Wait, what?"

Marko grinned sheepishly, biting on his thumbnail. "There was some debate about who to send after you."

Missy's jaw dropped a little, and she lifted a hand to cover her eyes. What was she doing here? She must be suicidally out of her mind to be back on the boardwalk, talking with a bunch of vampires who were most probably planning to kill her once they got her away from the public eye. She should have stayed in the vampire-proof church, waited until sunrise, and then bought a bus ticket for someplace far, far away from Santa Carla. Someplace sunny. Like Florida. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Laddie picked up the hem of her dress, playing the lace trim between his thumb and index finger.

"I can't pretend." Carefully, Missy tugged her dress away from the ten year old half-vampire, and took a series of steps back. Laddie's expression turned from happy to hurt in the second it took her to put distance between them, and Missy tried not to look at him for too long. "You guys can, but I'm not going to stand here and small talk after what you did. You either kill me or leave me alone, but I can't just sit around worrying and waiting for David to stop messing with my head and decide he really wants to kill me."

The vampires stared at her for a long time, and the half-vampires acquired identical miserable expressions, and the human began to wish that she'd never opened her big mouth in the first place. How sane was that? Telling a couple of vampires to kill her? Like they needed more incentive when she was already nothing more than a walking talking sirloin to them.

"Missy-" Marko began, but she stopped him, taking her hand away from her eyes to hold it out in front of her.

"I'm not okay, I can't be okay with this. I'm not going to just wash the blood off and pretend it never happened." No one might have suspected what they were really talking about, the skinny blonde girl, the three bikers, the gypsy, and the little kid. The boardwalk traffic went around them, paying as much attention to them as they would a puddle of spilled soda they didn't want to step in.

"What are you going to do, Missy?" Dwayne leveled his dark gaze at her, an almost imperceptible tilt to his head.

Missy took a deep steadying breath of ocean air, air that tasted of salt and funnel cake. Of the smoke coming from Marko's cigarette, and the strange sweet fragrance that seemed to come from the boys' skin. "I'm going to-" She stopped, licking her lips. "I'm going…home?" It came more like a question than she would have liked. She wasn't supposed to be asking for their permission.

"Missy." Laddie darted forward, slinging his arms around her waist again. "I don't want you to go." He mumbled into her cotton covered midsection, sounding like she'd just told him she was a professional puppy kicker.

Gently, Missy said, "Laddie." and reached back to touch his hands where they were locked into the back of her dress. His little fingers bit into the skin of her lower back when she tried to pry them off, and she barely withheld the resulting wince. "Okay, Laddie, ow."

"C'mon, bud, get off." Paul's hand shot out and snagged the back of Laddie's jacket. He tugged a little and Laddie let go. Star moved forward and slipped her arms around Laddie's shoulders, pulling him back against her body.

"You don't have to go." Laddie insisted, sadly.

Missy put on a weak smile. It was hard enough to argue with a kid, particularly one as cute as Laddie was, but he didn't see the boys like she did. They were his family. He wasn't terrified of them, and God if that didn't make her feel worse. "Laddie-"

"Missy!"

Starting, Missy turned her head around. "Oh no." She choked out.

"What?" Star turned too, and then, "Oh no."

"What?" Paul peered over the top of Missy's head, then, "Fuck."

* * *

Missy ran forward to intercept him before Alan could reach the vampires (and half-vampires), a panicky smile yanking up the corners of her mouth. "Alan, hey, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Alan barked. "What are you doing here? You walk out of the store like a zombie, don't tell us where you're going-"

"Alan-"

"We were worried!" Alan was bordering on hysterical, and Missy couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like she always told them where she was going when she left, or when she'd be back. They weren't her keepers. As affronted as she wanted to be for Alan behaving like he was her father, something in the way he was looking at her, the way he held himself, stopped her.

"Alan, what's wrong?" She asked him, touching his shoulder cautiously. He still looked mad enough to spit, she wasn't taking any chances.

Alan glared over her shoulder at the boys. "Do they have to be here?"

"Aw, what's wrong, Boy Scout?" Paul called, and Missy could have hissed when Marko began to laugh. "Don't like your girl hanging out with us?"

Alan took a step forward and Missy planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back none too gently. "Alan, don't." She whispered. The last she wanted was the boys pegging the only Frog brother who didn't entirely despise her as a snack. "Tell me what's going on?"

Alan finished snarling at the boys (who were not in the least bit threatened by the teenager's rancor) and leaned in, putting his face a lot closer to Missy's than she was really comfortable with, but she held still. "There's this guy keeps coming around the shop looking for you. Says he's a friend of your mother's. He dresses like an off-duty cop, but the questions he asked us? My money is on PI."

"Friend of my mother's?" Missy's voice was barely more than a squeak, and she felt her heart begin to tap dance. _Oh God, Renee. _"Wait, what's a PI?"

"Private Investigator." Dwayne interjected, spitting the words out like they tasted bad, along with a mouthful of thick smoke from the cigarette he was holding. Missy watched the dark look he threw Paul's way, and the dizzy blonde nodded once and elbowed his shorter friend. Marko flashed her an impish smile as he moved to straddle his bike, Star slipping gracefully into place after him with an expression on her face, somber as a pallbearer. Paul blew her a kiss and hopped onto his bike, reaching back to help Laddie on before making his bike's engine roar loudly, startling an older couple sporting fanny packs that was walking by.

Dwayne alone remained, standing beside his bike and smoking his cigarette, and that struck Missy as odd.

"Missy." Alan growled, drawing her attention back in to him so quick she got whiplash. "What's going on?"

"Alan, I need you to tell me what he said to you and Edgar. What he asked you, and what you said."

"He showed us a picture of you, said that he was a friend of your mom's, and that you'd been missing for two weeks. He asked us if we'd seen you around."

"What did you tell him?" As much as she'd known it was going to happen eventually, Missy'd been hoping it would take longer for Renee to get bored of waiting and send someone after her. She didn't want to have to run again, she liked Santa Carla, vampires notwithstanding. She liked her little bedroom, she liked living above a comic book store, she liked Alan, and Edgar, to a lesser extent, but only because he could be a raging jerk on occasion.

"Give us a little credit, Missy." The elder Frog brother scowled. "We didn't tell him shit."

Missy could have fainted with relief. Instead, she threw her arms around Alan's neck and planted several kisses over his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, oh my stars, you have no idea how much I adore you right now."

Alan's whole body stiffened, and he shoved a little at her shoulders, clearing his throat. "Missy, come on, people are staring." By people, he no doubt was referring to Dwayne, whose eyes Missy could feel searing a hole into the back of her head.

Missy let him go, grinning big enough to split her face in half.

"Don't get too excited, I saw him walking around the boardwalk on my way over here, flashing that picture of you." There went her happy feeling, quick as that, and she was frowning again. The hopeful part of her brain tried to tell her that the likelihood of anyone recognizing her in Santa Carla was pretty slim considering how many blonde girls were on the boardwalk daily and not to mention nightly. The less hopeful part of her brain stepped up the challenge, naturally, and informed her that wouldn't it just be her luck that someone did remember her out of the hordes upon hordes of blondes walking around this part of California? "Missy, why did your mom send a private eye after you? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"I can't explain right now, come on." She grabbed the sleeve of his camouflage jacket and yanked, the feeling of Dwayne's dark eyes lingering on her skin long after they had gone from his sight.

* * *

"What the hell?" Edgar snapped at her before she'd even got through the door, and the customer he had stopped ringing up looked disgruntled.

"Not now." Missy hissed. "And keep your voice down." She darted past the customers and the register, ignoring Alan's anxious cry after her, tearing up the stairs and through her bedroom door.

It wasn't a minute later that her door slammed against the back of her armoire (she was getting quicker and quicker at moving it for a barricade), and Edgar's voice filtered through the tiny crack he'd managed to get the door to open. "Missy, what the hell? Why's a cop looking for you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Missy called, stuffing another shirt into her backpack.

Then, a strange scraping sound filled the quiet of her room, followed by, "Push, Alan.", and she leapt away from the bed to race over to the door.

"Cut it out!" She shrieked, but the Frog brothers weight combined against the door was enough to get the armoire on the other side to move, at least as far to create a space for them to get their bodies through and into her room.

"What the hell?" Edgar barked, for the third time. "What is going on?"

"I don't have time for this." Missy turned back to her bed, grabbing with one hand at another of the shirts she'd thrown onto it, reaching for her backpack with the other.

Edgar was on her in an instant, grabbing her hard by her arms and spinning her around to face him. "Bullshit." He snapped. "Start explaining, or I call the cops."

"Let go!" Missy kicked hard at his shin, and he stumbled back a foot or two. He gave her a look like he wanted to murder her, but Alan held him back by his shoulder. "Look, it's a really long story, one I don't really have time for telling. I can't stay here anymore, I'm sorry."

"That's it?" Edgar snapped. "You're just gonna take off, after we lied to that guy to cover for you? Least you can do is give us an explanation."

Missy dropped the jeans she was holding and sighed. It was a hard story to tell without making her come off as some sort of dangerous psychopath who runs around clocking people with vases, but Edgar was right (and didn't that just pain her to admit), they did deserve an explanation for what they'd done for her. "Okay," she said. "I'll tell you."

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**Wow, that was a really long chapter. Over ten-thousand words. Anywho, that was chapter seventeen. I hope you enjoyed it. Oh, and since I don't think I explained it when it came up early on in the chapter, Luke 3:11 (He answered and said to them, "He who has two tunics, let him give to him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise.") I thought it was fitting for a church's charity bin.**


	18. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

****

Sorry for the wait again, you guys. I know it takes me forever to churn out new chapters, and I appreciate you guys hanging in there. I need to get a secretary so I can set aside a some time for writing. By the by, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my sister, for being so supportive by commanding me to write more, and also for helping me get to one-hundred reviews. Thanks, sis.

* * *

"_When you choose the lesser of two evils, always remember that it is still an evil."  
_

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

"She'll _never_ stop."

Two years, and if anything, Renee had only gotten worse. If it had been as simple as Renee just not liking her, Missy could have dealt with that; she was used to people not liking her. If being awkward and unlikable was an Olympic sport, Missy would take home the gold. But Renee didn't just dislike Missy, she held her personally accountable for the death of her husband. It didn't matter that she hadn't pulled the trigger herself, the blood was on Missy's hands as far as Renee was concerned.

Hate is a powerful emotion. It's like a disease. A sickness that eats away at a person and infects their whole body until all they can think about is making the whole world feel as miserable as they do, and there isn't a motive purer than good, old-fashioned revenge. It certainly didn't help that Missy and Renee had never been on good terms to begin with.

Being a stepmother isn't easy, and while Missy hadn't intentionally made things difficult for her father's second wife, she certainly hadn't made things easy on her. Missy had never begrudged her father his second marriage. It made him happy, and while, bottom line, that was what mattered most to Missy and Renee, neither of them had been that eager to get to know each other.

The late Mr. Van Buren had been the only thing that tied them to each other, their love for him their only common bond. His death had created a breach between them that neither could close. A chasm of estrangement and mutual loathing.

All Renee saw when she looked at her stepdaughter was a reminder of the long happy life with her husband she'd been robbed of. There was no putting things right between them, especially not when a part of Missy herself was still convinced that she was responsible for her father's death. No matter what she said, there was always the part of herself she kept tucked away that truly believed she'd had a hand in the deaths of both of her parents, and as long as that part remained, Renee would always have a hold on her.

Now, why Renee hadn't come after her herself is what Missy wanted to know. Why send a detective to do her dirty work? She couldn't turn without expecting to see Renee standing behind her, wearing that smarmy "Gotcha." expression. But with vampires and a detective to worry about, Renee was the least of her concerns now.

Still, nowhere was safe, that was only more evident now with the detective hanging over her head. Getting dragged back to Seattle had just gone from probable, to inevitable.

"She's the Terminator. She's worse than the Terminator."

At this point, if she opened her bedroom door and there was a huge guy in leather on the other side of it with a shotgun, she'd probably be a little relieved. But the truth was, Renee was real, and a lot worse than a cyborg from the future. Renee wasn't bound by the movie laws that said good always won and the hero always got a happy ending. Losing her mother had taught her early on that in the real world, bad things happened to good people, and happy endings didn't exist. Her father's death, well, that only proved to her what she already knew.

Missy was in an impossible situation, stuck between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea. Returning to Seattle would mean the end of her life as she knew it. Renee would never give her the chance to runaway again. Knowing Renee, she'd make good on her threat to have her incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital. Missy would be lucky to see daylight before she turned thirty. Staying in Santa Carla, on the other hand, might result in a less-figurative ending of her life.

Neither of the Frog brothers had said a single word since she began the explanation they had demanded of her. Missy had hoped that coming clean, about everything, at last, would somehow make her feel better or more in control of a situation that was so very out of her control. Or at the very least, she wanted to set things right that had been fouled between her and the Frog brothers by her omission.

She wasn't as confident as she'd been ten minutes ago.

Edgar, who had listened to her entire story with cold, stony indifference before, watched her now with the rigid countenance of a mind made up. Missy wished that she could take everything, and go back to when Edgar thought she was just annoying and bossy, and when Alan didn't look at her like she was a kitten-stomping sociopath.

"I'll leave." She whispered. "I'll leave, and I'll find someplace else to stay. Just," Don't turn me in sounded too much like something a criminal would say. Missy was anything but. She was just a runaway with a stepmother who refused to let her go. "just, please."

Minutes crawled by, and Missy didn't know what she was expecting either of them to do. Yell at her, maybe, or call her crazy. Whatever she was thinking, she knew she must have looked wholly shocked when Edgar got up from the bed first. He approached her slowly, like he hadn't decided if she was dangerous or not yet, looking grim.

Though Missy didn't honestly believe that Edgar would try to stab her, she kept her eyes on that stake he was white-knuckling regardless, and held her breath.

"Okay." Edgar said at last, tucking the stake into the back of his pants, at which point, Missy's imagination was finally able to stop conjuring images of him sticking her in the heart with it like he was deflating a Missy shaped balloon.

If she'd been a cartoon character, this was the moment where her eyes would have popped out of her head like a cuckoo clock. "Huh?"

"We believe you."

"You do?" Missy's voice cracked. "Why?" Edgar raised an eyebrow. "I mean, never mind." Gift horse. Mouth. She'd half-heartedly hoped that they would believe her, but mostly she'd expected to be either stabbed or tossed out into the street like a stray dog. Edgar and Alan, in the short time she'd known them, had never struck as the particularly forgiving type.

"So what are we going to do about the dick that's after you?" Edgar folded his arms across his chest, his brow furrowing beneath a dark blue headband.

"What do you mean we?" Missy had to put her foot down before either of them got it in their heads to do something that'd land them in juvie.

"We want to help." Alan said.

"And I really appreciate it." Missy moved around them, scooping her backpack up from where it'd fallen, brushing off the stale smelling coat of dust it had collected when it hit the floor.

Teenage boys. Not the best housekeepers. "But I'm not going to drag you two into this."

"You're just gonna leave?" Edgar gestured vaguely in the direction of the front of the store. "That detective guy is probably out there right now flashing that picture of you around, and sooner or later, someone's gonna recognize you."

"I know, I know. I stick out like a sore thumb." Missy sighed, stomping over to her nightstand to retrieve her parents' picture. "But what am I supposed to do? If I stay here, he's going to find me for sure." Just when she started to think that vampires were her only problem.

"Are you gonna leave Santa Carla?" Alan asked.

Although the thought had indeed crossed her mind, she had written it off as a worst-case scenario. She liked Santa Carla. It was wholly different from Seattle, and infested with vampires thought it was, she wanted to stay. "I don't know."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know."

"How are you gonna find a place to stay? Let alone afford the rent-"

Missy whirled on the both of them, snapping. "I don't know!" She wiped her hands over her face, smoothing her hair back, and whimpered quietly. "I don't know."

Good questions, all of which she did not have answers for. She was only seventeen. Perhaps if she was older, or smarter, she would know what to do. She knew enough to know that appealing to the private investigator's better nature would likely do more harm than good. Renee wouldn't send just anyone after her. She'd send someone ruthless, as driven as she was. Someone motivated by money alone, and Missy didn't have access to the same funds that Renee did. She couldn't just offer the detective money and hope he'd leave her alone.

Missy slumped down onto her bed, twisting her hands in the faded old quilt. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to leave." Alan pulled her backpack out of her reach, a vain attempt at preventing her from leaving, no doubt. He nudged his brother with the opposite hand. "Right Edgar?"

"We can hide you here." Edgar gave her bedroom a long glance. "Of course you won't be able to go down in the shop, but it's not like you're any help down there anyway."

"And we'll bring you food and stuff to read."

"Alan will bring you food and stuff to read."

"You can't just expect me to stay up here all day and night." Missy grimaced. She could only imagine the kinds of things Edgar and Alan would give her to read. "Vampires: Why They Are Bad And Why You Should Kill Them." and the popular sequel, "Vampires: How To Kill Them And Not Get Killed By Them." They would turn her quaint little bedroom into a prison. It would be like living with Renee all over again, and she wouldn't go back to that.

Edgar and Alan exchanged glances, and the younger Frog shrugged a little. "You'd probably be safe at night."

_Safe from the detective maybe. _Missy mused. There was that lesser of two evils dilemma again. She could hide in her room like a refugee during the day to avoid the detective, just to go out at night and risk potentially running into David and his boys, who may or may not be planning to kill her. Her life was spiraling like something valuable dropped in the sink, headed straight for the drain, and the garbage disposal.

"Hey, Missy?" Alan's voice drew her back, and she blinked slowly as she turned to face him.

"Yeah, Alan?"

His expression should have been warning enough, because when does it ever spell something good for someone to look as amused and disgusted as Alan did? "What's with the dress?"

If that wasn't her cue to get out of the retro abomination she was wearing and burn it, she didn't know what was. "Okay," she grumbled, flapping her hands at them like an angry bird. "all the boys in my room need to leave so I can get changed."

"You're staying?" Edgar's voice wasn't exactly hopeful, not quite that, because neither Frog brother was all that adept at mimicking human emotions, and Edgar didn't harbor anything less than complete apathy for her. Certainly not fondness. But it was crushing, still, to hear him talk to her like he cared. It had been a long time since anyone gave a damn about her.

"For now." Missy scrounged up a feeble attempt at a smile. She could manage "for now". "For now" didn't say a lot about the not-so-distant future, but then again, she might not have one if David had anything to say about it. At the moment, she didn't even want to waste a single second worrying about what the next few days, hours even, would hold for her. Right now, what she did know, all she could think of, was that she needed a shower in a bad way.

More than that, she needed to change into something from this decade. Hello, pastel cotton nightmare.

It wasn't the dress's fault that it was kind of hideous and she couldn't look at it without thinking about blood. Under the unforgiving lights of the boardwalk, she'd felt like she was standing under a microscope, her dirty secret out in the open for the whole world to see. But for all the outside world knew, she was just a weirdly dressed teenager. Santa Carla was full of them, and nobody had looked twice at her. No one had a clue of what she'd been witness to. All the evidence was buried in the bottom of a church's trash bin, all the physical evidence, at least.

"Hey, um, Edgar?" Missy caught him in the doorway, and he turned his head, frowning over his shoulder. Grouchy must have been Edgar's default setting.

"Yeah?" He grunted at her.

How to say it without sounding suspicious…"Can I have another stake?"

Edgar frowned, eyebrows furrowing beneath his headband, and she knew she'd failed at sounding innocent. "What happened to the other one?"

"I lost it?" She said, which was a partial truth; also known as a lie. She couldn't exactly tell them Paul had taken it because she'd threatened him with it. They'd be out on the boardwalk with buckets of holy water before she could say "vampire". She smiled as mildly as she could, aiming for sincere, or at the least, like she wasn't lying through her teeth.

"Doing what?" Edgar pivoted to face her fully, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

_Shoot. _Missy grumbled. Couldn't he just once let something go without interrogating her? "I'm not sure. I was cleaning and I think I may have tossed it." That was believable, naturally, because her room was such an obvious 'sty.

Edgar glanced askance at her bare floor and bookcase. He was so not buying it.

"Please?" When all else fails, look pathetic and desperate.

Edgar made a face like a wince and reached back to retrieve the stake he'd tucked beneath his waistband. "Whatever." It was obvious from his tone that he didn't believe for a second what she was selling him, but that he didn't honestly want to know. "Here." He tossed the sharpened chair leg at her and she scrambled to catch it before it poked her eye out.

"Thanks, Edgar."

"Whatever." Edgar barked, gruff, and a little embarrassed. "Just don't take forever in the shower this time."

Missy beamed sweetly at him. "No promises."

Edgar rolled his eyes and grunted again. "Whatever."

* * *

Missy ran the water as hot as she dared, sitting on the edge of the tub and letting it run over her fingers until they were pink and tender. Though it was long washed off, Missy couldn't forget the feeling of a stranger's blood on her skin. She could still see it every time she shut her eyes, afraid that the next time she opened them, her pale skin would be slick and red again.

She didn't think she'd ever be able to close her eyes again without seeing those poor girls ripped apart, or if she'd ever be able to look at the boys like before. She'd seen behind the curtain, she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen that side of David and his boys. She'd always be able to see the monsters lurking under those pretty faces.

She let the closet-sized bathroom fill with steam, watching her reflection be gradually overtaken by condensation until she couldn't see herself anymore. She left the water running and slipped back out into the hallway to fetch clothes (maybe she'd take the new stake Edgar had given her too, just in case), thinking hard about long, hot showers, and not about blood. She wouldn't even have noticed the elephant in the room if it hadn't spoken to her.

"Love the dress."

* * *

Missy froze, a chill shooting up her spine like she'd been dipped in ice water. There was nothing like pure terror to cool the body down fast.

Missy was sure she'd never prayed so hard for a hallucination in her entire life. She would have traded anything, _anything, _for the sight of David lounging across her bed like a languorous jungle cat to be a figment of her messed up imagination. She blinked hard, three times, and he was still lying there. Like he belonged there, had every right in the world to be there. The long, dusty hem of his coat draped off the sides of her bed like the wings of a huge bat, the smoke from his cigarette curling up toward the ceiling in slow, lazy coils. _Great, _she thought as she watched it. Her whole room was going to stink like cigarette smoke.

Odd what insignificant little stuff still bothers a person even when they're staring a vampire in the face.

"David." Her voice said more than she did.

David rolled his eyes to stare across the room at her. They were blue and amber at the same time. He blew a series of smoke rings before he spoke again. "Do you know what a head start is, Missy?" He purred, giving Missy glimpses of perfectly white, unnaturally pointed teeth. David spoke with a placidity that belied the menace Missy could see swimming just beneath the surface. She didn't allow herself to be fooled by the tranquil carriage of his recumbent body, to forget that David could go from sitting to standing faster than her mortal eyes could follow if she dared to take them off of him. A reclining vampire was still, after all, a loaded weapon. David was poisonous, and a snake didn't stop being poisonous just because it was sleeping. "I'm not sure if you're familiar with the concept. This," he made a vague gesture. "coming back here? _Stupid_." Seeing as he had a point, and was a ruthless killer besides, Missy didn't bother arguing with him.

Staring a vampire in the face was a lot more terrifying than anything in the books and movies made it seem. Probably because none of the people writing them had ever met a real life vampire. Funny how that still sounded ridiculous to her. Real life books didn't mention the way Missy's fear clawed at her insides, fighting its way up into her throat until she could taste it. Movies didn't show the way her hands shook, sprinkling nervous perspiration on the floor around her feet. Missy could feel her heartbeat speed aggressively against her ribcage as David shifted on the bed.

"You look nervous, Missy." David called to her from the bed, crossing one ankle over the other casually.

"Why would I be nervous, David?" Missy struggled to keep her voice even, but she knew it didn't matter in the long run. David could probably taste her fear at this point.

"I can smell it too." David intoned, looking for all the world like a friend stopping over for a harmless chat. But Missy didn't have to be a mind reader to know that David's intentions were far from harmless. "What's the matter, Missy?" He frowned a little, and damn him if it didn't look genuine. "You're not still upset about earlier, are you?"

"I'm just peachy."

David arched an arctic white brow at her caustic tone, grinning coldly. "Really." It wasn't a question.

"If things get any better, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it." Missy mumbled, trying not to think about the stake she'd stashed under her pillow."Not looking for this, are you?" And there it was, sitting uselessly and so far out of her reach in David's hand. He smirked. "Did you make it yourself? Or did your little friend…Edgar, give it to you?"

"Stay away from them, David."

David didn't even need to say "Or what?", he knew as well as Missy that she couldn't do boo to stop him if he wanted to go downstairs and crush Edgar and Alan's skulls like soggy fruit. "So what were you planning to do with this, Missy?" David twirled the stake harmlessly. "Kill me?"

One, okay, it had occurred to her. But two, she didn't honestly think she'd be able to stab anyone, even someone as vile and annoying (and handsome, don't forget handsome) as David was. She'd probably end up tripping and falling on the stake herself.

"Go on, then." The stake was lying at her feet before she'd even seen him move. "Try." David said, grinning like a shark.

Missy didn't so much as twitch a finger to go for the stake. She wasn't an idiot. David would be on her before she could even stand back up. He'd tear her head off.

"That wouldn't be fair, would it?" David stubbed his cigarette out on the sole of his boot, tossing the spent remainder on her nightstand beside her parents' picture. Besides, his expression said what he didn't. He wanted her to see him coming. "Come on." David crooked his finger at her as he stood beside the bed. "First try is free."

Missy wondered where he was hiding the camera. "I'm not an idiot, David.""Either you come over here or I come over there." David drawled. "Up to you, Missy."

Well, Missy didn't want that, but she certainly didn't want to go anywhere near David if she could help it.

David smiled thinly. "Pick up the stake, Missy."

There wasn't a lot she could do to argue. David would get bored if she kept stalling, and then he'd just kill her and move on to Edgar and Alan.

Missy kept her eyes on the vampire as she stooped to retrieve the stake, thin fingers feeling blindly until they stumbled across sharpened wood. She snatched it up, holding it tight to her chest as she straightened up.

"Good." David purred. "That wasn't so hard."

_Would have been easier if you weren't eyeballing me. _

David chuckled. It sounded cold, empty. "What are you waiting for, Missy? Kill me." _If you can._

Missy felt the stake sliding around in her moist hands, and she swallowed, trying to force her heart back down to where it belonged. It was stupid. More than that, it was suicide. David would break her in half.

"Never know if you don't try." David lilted.

David was going to kill her no matter what she did or said, better it be on her terms rather than his.

"That's the spirit."

"Shut up, David."

Reaching down inside herself, Missy pulled her courage back up by its bootstraps, and foolish though it might have been, rushed at David with the stake held out in front of her like a jousting lance.

David didn't move until she was close enough to really catch it. Missy was inches away from him when his right hand snaked out and smacked the stake out of her hand, and she had just enough time to register that she was now weaponless as well as powerless when his left hand curled around her throat. "Missy, Missy, Missy." David brought his face in so close to hers that she could smell the cigarettes and blood on his breath, feel the whiskers on his chin rub against her cheek as he whispered to the top of her head. "What are you going to do now, Missy?"

Missy was too busy choking to answer him. She clawed at his fingers with both hands, digging her fingernails into the leather covering his hands as hard as she could. She knew she wouldn't budge David unless he let her, but she couldn't just hang there and die.

"Since I have you here," David said, just as nice as pie, not bothered in the least by her scratching at him. "why don't we talk about your little friends downstairs?"

Missy gurgled.

"You're right." David said. "This obsession of theirs with vampires isn't healthy for boys their age."

Missy made a strangled sound, her eyes going wide. _Oh God, please, please don't let him hurt them. _

"Maybe I'll have a talk with them when I'm done here." She felt David's nose in her hair, heard him inhale. "Should I show them what real vampires are like?"

_David. _"Gurk." _Please!_

"What's that?" David let up on her throat, enough so she could swallow a few greedy gulps of air.

"Don't hurt them." She coughed. "Please don't hurt them."

"What if I hurt you instead of them?" David asked. "Sound good to you?"

Missy opened her mouth to say that David could go to Hell for all she cared, but all that came out was a muffled gasp when he jerked her head to the side and buried his fangs up to the gum in her neck.

* * *

Missy learned something as David took a hearty swig of her blood. Dying _really _hurt.

Apparently, it hurt David too, because he reared back, his mouth wet and red, howling like she'd tried to gut him with a butter knife. He jerked away from her like a wounded animal, and when she looked at his face, Missy knew why. His mouth wasn't just red from her blood, the whole lower half of his face was red and blistering before her very eyes, hissing and bubbling up like hot cheese on a pizza. He looked like she'd thrown battery acid in his face.

"Oh my god."

"What did you do?" David growled at her, but she couldn't understand him properly, he barely had lips anymore.

"I-" David reached for her, and Missy screamed like she'd never screamed in her life.

"Missy!"

Missy didn't need super vampire hearing to pick up on two heavy-footed teenage boys charging for the stairs. _Oh no, oh no, oh no-_

David snarled at her like an angry cat, and then he was gone, like he'd never even been there in the first place, if not for the bleeding bite mark on her neck. _Oh god._

* * *

Missy whipped around to stair at her open door. If Edgar and Alan saw her neck, there would be no way she'd be able to convince them it was anything other than what it was. What could she say? She tripped?

Leaping across the gap between her the door, she slammed her entire body against it and grabbed the knob with both hands in the same instant that Edgar and Alan ran into the opposite side.

"Missy!" It was Alan shouting like, well, like he thought she was being attacked by something.

Clearing her throat so she didn't sound like she'd just been nearly strangled and bitten, Missy called back. "Yes?" Nonchalant. Unruffled. Perfect.

"What happened?" Edgar barked through the thin wood of her door. "You screamed."

"I saw a-"_ Don't say vampire, don't say vampire, don't say vampire- _"-spider."

"A spider?" Alan echoed.

"You screamed like that because of a spider?" Edgar sounded angry, and she felt the door rattle as he kicked at it. "We thought somebody was murdering you!"

_Somebody was trying to. _"It was a big spider, okay?" Missy shouted back, trying for disgruntled and embarrassed.

"I can't believe this." She heard Edgar grumble. "She saw a spider. A _spider _for Christ's sake!"

Missy listened until Edgar's footsteps and complaining faded away, but she could still hear Alan breathing on the other side of her door. "Missy?"

"Yeah, Alan?"

"You want me to kill the spider for you?"

_Alan Frog. _Missy sighed."That's okay, I think I'll catch it and drop it in your brother's mouth while he's sleeping."

"Are you really okay?" Alan was much more intuitive than his brother, damn him.

Missy reached up and cupped a hand over the seeping holes in her neck. "I'm just peachy."

* * *

The bathroom was like a greenhouse by the time she got back, muggy enough to raise butterflies. She dropped some fresh underwear and a pale pink nightshirt featuring a teddy bear in blue striped pajamas and a nightcap on the toilet seat lid, along with her stake, for all the good it hadn't done. She yanked open the medicine cabinet door a little too vigorously, sending bottles and boxes tumbling out into the sink. "Shoot." She stuffed everything back where it looked like it fit, setting aside a box of multi-colored Band-Aids and antibiotic ointment. God only knew when the last time David brushed his teeth was, and she didn't want to get an infection. She wiped off the mirror with the dress she'd been wearing and leaned in to get a good first look at David's bite. It was already beginning to bruise at the edges of the matching punctures, separated by the gap where David's front teeth were. It looked like exactly what it was. A vampire bite. Maybe she could tell Edgar and Alan it was a really big mosquito? "Yeah. A big, stupid, blonde mosquito."

She wiped blood off her neck for the second time that day, wincing as the rough fabric of the washcloth dragged across the bite. She kept wiping until the blood stopped coming, and then she leaned in close to the mirror, squeezing a tiny dab of ointment onto the tip of her finger. "Don't scream." She told her pale, tired reflection. Then she held her breath, and smeared the ointment over David's bite. It burned like she was pouring vinegar directly into the wounds, and it took everything she had to keep quiet. She bit her lip so hard she thought her teeth were going to go right through it, gripping the sides of the sink so tight her knuckles were the same color as the porcelain. She peeled a lime green bandage away from its wrapper and pressed it over the entire bite with shaking fingers. There. Good as new. Well, good as could be, all things considered.

* * *

It was difficult enough to shower without getting shampoo or soap in her fun new vampire bite, but one handed, it was a lot harder. She held the stake aloft in her left hand the entire time she was in the shower. She didn't know how long she was in there, but she scrubbed her skin until it stung, peeking her head out from behind the curtain when she couldn't stand worrying about if David was on the other side. She reflected on things the way they were as the scalding water plastered her hair to her face and back. Looking back, she wondered if Renee had been that bad after all.

* * *

There was a lot to be said for money, good food, and shelter; but Missy was pretty sure that hands down, long showers and clean clothes were the key to happiness. The soft cotton of her nightshirt felt like heaven after what she'd been through.

She shoved the borrowed dress into the trash can as she left the bathroom feeling, not quite like a million bucks, but at least better than she'd been before. She stopped just outside the door to call down the stairs, as a courtesy, "Bathroom's free!", before she dashed into her bedroom before Edgar or Alan could see her bandage before she'd come up with a believable excuse.

What she found waiting for her on her bed was a message from the universe. She just didn't know what it meant.

* * *

_This is unbelievable! _"Is there a sign on my door that says 'psycho killers welcome' or something?" Missy snapped tartly at the towheaded vampire lying on her bed. "My bedroom is _not_ a vampire clubhouse. How do you guys keep getting in here anyway? I thought vam-_bloodsuckers_ had to be invited in?"

If Marko was bothered by the hasty substitution, he didn't show it. He just kept on smiling that benign smile of his, like she hadn't just insulted his entire race. That was if vampires even qualified as being alive, let alone an individual race. "We've been in your bedroom before." He said. Which was true, but if her memory served her right, she had never given them an official invitation in the first place. "You really shouldn't believe everything you see in the movies." Marko chided her, grinning and biting on his thumb nail idly.

So she'd been told, but the fact remained that she hadn't even known vampires existed until a day or two ago. The movies made up the bulk of her, admittedly limited, knowledge of vampires. And it wasn't as though any of the boys had been exactly forthcoming with the information. They'd been too busy throwing body parts at her to schedule "share time".

Marko laughed.

"Stay out of my head." Missy grumbled, reaching down and tugging the hem of her nightshirt further down her thighs. Just what she needed. A vampire seeing her in her underwear and teddy bear jim-jams.

Marko tilted his head, then shook it a little, chuckling again. "Can't help it."

"Why?" Missy crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you have self-control?"

The charms and doodads decorating Marko's jacket jangled and clacked together as he shrugged his shoulders. "You have interesting thoughts."

"I do not." Missy protested, though she wasn't sure why.

"You do." Marko's lips curled into that beautiful half-smile again. "You don't think like a vampire at all."

"Thank you." Missy snipped at him.

Marko continued, unabated by her ire. "It's…refreshing. We try to give each other privacy, you know, stay out each other's minds? But it isn't easy keeping your guard up all the time."

"Dwayne said it's like a reflex." Missy mumbled, and Marko sort of nodded at her, smiling softly.

"It takes a couple of years to get the hang of it." Marko caught her next thought before it had even articulated properly, shrugging. "Paul's young. He still thinks a lot like a human."

"Loudly and obnoxiously?" Missy grumbled, bitterly reminded on the conversation she'd had with Dwayne on the subject.

"Yeah." Marko laughed.

Speaking of. "Where is he, anyway? You guys are usually like each other's shadows."

"We don't actually cast shadows." Marko cut in. "Or reflections."

Missy gaped with her mouth open until Marko grinned again. "He's surfing."

"Surfing?" Missy parroted, her eyebrows arching up.

"Yeah."

"A surfing vampire?" There was no way to say it that didn't sound ridiculous.

Marko snickered. "Yeah, but it keeps him occupied, and I really think he's just hoping he'll get the chance to fight a shark."

That sounded too much like Paul to be a joke.

Missy inched closer to her bed, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting at her lip. "Marko, why are you here?"

The seriousness came back to the atmosphere, and Marko wasn't smiling anymore. "What did you do to David?" Missy's heart stuttered like a flooded engine. "He looks like he tried to gargle with sunlight."

"He attacked me." Missy wagged her hand at the bright green bandage on her neck. It wasn't her fault David got a mouthful of skin that had been washed with holy water for his trouble.

Marko's eyes flashed briefly amber, but were blue again by the time she really looked. "You washed your skin with holy water?"

"I was covered in blood at the time." Missy said, pointedly. "I didn't have a lot of options. Besides, you're missing the point, _he _attacked _me_."

Marko sat up straighter, leaning forward. "David is seriously pissed."

"Serves him right." Missy frowned. "He shouldn't have attacked me."

Marko tilted his head to one side, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. "Why didn't he kill you?"

It sounded like he was asking himself more than her, but she answered regardless. "Ask him." Missy tried to sound angry, but she was frightened, and shivering, and it's hard to sound tough with chattering teeth.

"You cold?" Marko asked.

"Do you care?" Missy snapped. She was tired, angry, scared, and her neck was still smarting. She couldn't deal with this right now.

"Can I look at it?"

"What?" Missy's head whipped up, confused.

Marko gestured wordlessly to the bandage on her throat.

"Why?" Missy asked, none too eager to have a bloodthirsty vampire that close to her jugular again.

"That's your carotid, actually." Marko half-smiled when Missy glared. "Just saying."

And a vampire would know.

"Why do you want to look at it?" She asked, touching the bandage defensively. What if he was just planning to lull her into a false sense of security and rip her throat out? Even if he wasn't, it still hurt, and she didn't want him poking at it. He wasn't a doctor, and he'd been a vampire for who knew how long, he didn't know anything about human anatomy anymore. Even if he had seen the inside of more humans than a surgeon.

Marko gave her a look that said "Quit being so difficult." and kind of sighed. "I want to see how deep it is."

She had nothing to protect herself if Marko truly intended to kill her. She doubted she'd be quick enough to stab Marko with her stake if he came at her, or if she'd actually have the nerve to run him through. She'd had a stake on her before and David had still tried to take a bite out of her. The only thing that had stopped him was the holy water residue on her skin, and that wouldn't save her a second time. There most likely wasn't much holy water left on her skin after the hours long shower she'd just taken. She was lucky she had any _skin _left after how she'd scrubbed herself. "You're not going to bite me?"

Marko smirked. "Not unless you ask me to."

_Fat chance. _Missy shuffled over to the bed, eyeing the vampire cautiously in case he changed his mind about not killing her. When she was about a foot from the bed, Marko reached out, quicker than a snake's strike, and grabbed her wrist. It was too sudden for a scream even, and Missy was yanked quietly down onto the bed between Marko's legs. "Don't do that!" She growled, yanking her shirt down where it had ridden up on her thighs again.

She felt Marko laughing behind her, and then he was peeling the bandage away from the wound on her neck. It caught on her skin, and he stopped pulling when she winced. "You're supposed to just yank it off quick." She told him. It didn't surprise her that he didn't know how to operate a simple Band-Aid. He was a vampire, after all, not like he had much use for them anymore.

Marko gently tugged the bandage the rest of the way off her skin, blowing down on the area to soothe the agitated skin. She shivered as his cool breath hit the ointment on her skin, chilling it. "It would've reopened the wound." He told her, like he was imparting some obvious wisdom to her. He chuckled when she didn't respond. "It would have started bleeding again." He explained.

"So what, you'd freak out and try to eat me?" Her breathing sped up, she couldn't help it.

She couldn't see Marko's smirk, but she could hear it in his voice. "No. It just would've taken longer to heal." He said. "I was being considerate. You heal a lot slower than I do."

"Oh." That was a 'duh' moment if there was ever one. So maybe vampires weren't mindless killers set into a feeding frenzy by the minutest drop of blood, that still didn't mean they were good people.

"It's not too deep." Marko added, one hand cupping her shoulder, the other holding her shirt collar out of the way. He sounded surprised. "David's a deep biter." Missy'd seen him bite a girl's hand near in half; she knew that. "I think he was just trying to scare you."

"Mission accomplished." Missy snapped. "I'm terrified." She didn't mention that she'd taken a shower with a stake practically tied to her hand. She wasn't sure if it was lingering decorum that told her it was impolite to tell Marko she was thinking of stabbing David, or if she just didn't want him thinking about her in the shower. When Marko laughed loudly behind her, she realized that hoping for the latter was probably moot by this point. "Don't get mad, Paul really can't help himself when it comes to women."

Missy blushed as she reapplied the Band-Aid to her neck, both because Marko had implied that Paul had fantasized about her naked, and because he'd referred to her as a woman.

The air in her bedroom was stifling with Marko pressed so close to her back, and she wanted to rant and cry and scream all at once. She couldn't believe what she was doing, what she was letting Marko do, after what he and the boys had done. "I had to throw my clothes away." She hissed. "I had to wash a stranger's blood off me. I hate you." It was a bit empowering to say it, even if she only half meant it. She did hate Marko. For what he'd done, there was no forgiving, no excusing. So why did she still want to be around him? How was it that he could still make her smile?

"Do you want me to go?" Marko was so close she could feel his breath moving the back of her hair. Funny. She thought vampires didn't need to breathe. "We don't, it just makes us look more normal."

She didn't know what she wanted. She wanted Marko gone. She wanted Marko to stay. She wanted him not to be a vampire. She wanted him to be a normal guy. She wanted her life to be like other peoples', just for once. "I can't really help with most of those." Marko's hand slid off her shoulder, her shirt collar slipping back into place.

"Is David going to try and kill me again?" Missy mumbled, picking nervously at the fabric of her nightshirt.

"I don't know." Marko confessed. "Probably." He shrugged a little. "It's hard to tell with David. He's older than all of us, he's better at keeping his thoughts to himself."

"He doesn't talk to you guys about what he's planning?" Missy shifted out of Marko's grip, turning around so she could see his face better. It made her feel better to see his expressions. It was hard enough knowing what he was thinking when she was looking dead at him, but it was twice as hard when he was behind her. Plus, she just didn't feel comfortable having a bloodthirsty vampire where she couldn't keep her eye on him. "At all?"

"He talks to Dwayne mostly." Marko kind of shrugged again. "Dwayne's closer to his age, they're more," he made a vague gesture.

"Equal?" Missy offered.

"Yeah. I mean, he wouldn't talk to any of us when he came back to the cave. We thought he'd killed you. I've seen David mad before, but this was," Marko pulled a face. "I wasn't sure how much of you I was going to find when I came over here."

"Okay, see, now that's something you could've really kept to yourself." Missy said, her tongue like a weight in her mouth.

"Sorry." Marko let her move away from him, to the foot of the bed.

Missy sat with her legs folded beneath her, facing him, and asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she walked in and saw Marko on her bed. "Does David know you're here?"

Marko smiled, and it was sadder than she'd ever seen him, outside of her nightmares. "He knows I'm not at the cave."

"Does he know you're here with me?" Missy, much as she was scared of Marko, didn't want David to hurt him for coming to see her. Or for David to come back and hurt _her _again either.

"Probably." Marko told her. "He's knocking." He gestured to his head. "But I'm not answering right now."

Missy frowned. "Don't get into trouble over me. I mean, I don't even like you." Another partial truth. She hated the part of Marko that scared her, hated it with every part of body. But it was hard to see that part of him when Marko was smiling at her, and not kicking eye-less heads at her. It was like he had a split personality.

Marko tilted his head, grinning that sweet, wicked grin of his. "If it wasn't you, it'd be something else."

Missy bit her lip, frowning. "Trouble-seeker."

Marko reached out and flicked the tip of her nose. "Trouble."

It occurred to Missy, that it wasn't all that proper for a seventeen year old girl to be alone in her room with a vampire, particularly when she wasn't wearing pants. "You should probably go." _Before David comes looking for you. _

Marko chuckled a little. "Probably."

Missy frowned. "Are you going to?"

Marko hid a smile behind his fist. "Maybe." She supposed it didn't really matter if she got any sleep, considering David was going to kill her as soon as his mouth grew back anyway. "Maybe he won't."

Missy glared, gesturing to covered puncture wounds on her neck. "He bit me!"

"He could've done worse." Marko shrugged, and she knew from personally experience that he was right. She'd seen firsthand what David and his boys could do to a person if they really meant it.

"I really don't want to die, Marko." She whispered, feeling pathetic, sore, and tired.

Marko half-smiled. "Who does?"

An image of her mother darted to the forefront of her mind before Missy could stop it. "We're not friends." She snapped. "Stop talking to me like you are." She wasn't about to discuss her mother's suicide with a murderer.

Marko made a face like he was going to say something, but he froze half-way through, his whole body stiffening up, his eyes flashing amber. "Stay here." He said, and then he disappeared in a single blink of her eyes.

Missy thought about not going after him.

For about two seconds, maybe.

She slid off the end of her bed and ran to her door, allowing for a brief second to be amazed that Marko was fast enough to open her door, walk through it, and shut it again before she even knew he'd moved.

She heard voices down in the shop. Edgar, sounding annoyed, as usual; and Alan, arguing with someone. No Marko though. She tiptoed down the steps, thankful that she barely weighed enough to make them creak. The voices got louder, and she could hear bits and pieces of what Edgar and Alan were saying.

"-told you. We don't know her."

"-leave, or am I gonna have to make you leave?"

"Try it, kid."

"Get the bat, Alan."

"It's not here!"

"Listen good, ya little shit, 'cause I'm only gon' say it one more time. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Real skinny. Legs up ta' her chin. Ringin' any bells?"

_Why do I know that voice? _Missy inched down another few steps.

_Stay upstairs, Missy. _Marko's voice whispered into her mind, soft and urgent.

Missy ignored it, moving closer to the voices, to the one she was certain she knew from somewhere.

"Get out of here before I call the cops."

"Her name's Missy. An' I know she's been stayin' here, so if ya don't start tellin' me something straight, I'm gonna put my foot straight up your little white ass."

_Wait a minute…_

_Go back upstairs, Missy! _

Missy pushed Marko's voice out of her mind and ran down the last few steps to the foot of the stairs. She met Marko's eyes first. He was standing near the entrance of the shop, like he wasn't even a part of what was going on in the middle of the store. Edgar and Alan were standing shoulder to shoulder, chests puffed up like angry cats. And on the other side of them was-

Missy gasped.

"Eden?"

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**So there you go, the long awaited chapter eighteen. Tell me what you think. Questions? Comments?**


	19. Between Bravery and Stupidity

**Chapter nineteen, folks. It's hard to believe it's come this far, and you have yourselves to thank just as much as me for that. Thanks for all the words of encouragement guys. Enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

_"Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after."_

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

"Eden?"

The face was the same. Pretty, with thick, dark eye makeup that made her look years older, and bright red lips curling above perfectly straight, faintly yellowed teeth. The hair, long and dark, teased up high around her head, was just like she remembered. A part of Missy felt bad that she'd hardly thought of Eden at all since the night she arrived in Santa Carla, but the rest of her was screaming that it was hard to keep her priorities in focus when she had vampires breathing down (and doing other things to) her neck. The last time they'd seen each other had been in the back of a Greyhound bus, both of them had been running from their pasts; bruised and semi-broken.

"Hey, girly." Eden lifted her arms and held them open, dropping the handle of the duffel bag she'd been clutching with her left hand. It fell through the air like an anchor, hitting the floor with a thump louder than clothes alone could have produced. "Get over here an' hug my neck."

"Wait." Edgar's voice stopped her in her tracks before Missy could get more than an inch closer to Eden. The younger, shorter Frog's head whipped back and forth like a weathervane in a tornado. "You know," he jerked his thumb rudely at Eden. "her?"

"She's my friend." Missy glared at him. "Manners."

"How were we supposed to know that?" Edgar grumbled, gesturing violently with both hands. "She didn't say that." He turned to Eden. "You didn't say that."

Alan added, "She dresses like a hooker.", his lip curling up in a tiny snarl.

Eden hissed like an angry snake, "Boy, I swear I'm gon' break my-", and Missy slammed into her chest, interrupting her and forcing the air out of Eden's lungs in a violent sounding puff.

She clung weakly to her with both arms. "I'm really glad you're here, Eden." Missy whispered. She didn't care that Eden had just dropped into the middle of her messed up life without any warning, or that she was probably endangering her by being anywhere near her at all. She was just happy to see someone who'd been kind to her when Eden had no reason to be, and Missy had no reason to expect it. She didn't even care that she could feel Marko's stink-eye singeing the back of her reached up and patted the top of Missy's damp hair. "Ya know you're not wearin' any pants, kid?"

"I know." Missy sniffled, speaking into the crook of Eden's neck and shoulder. "I was in bed." She wisely kept the revelation that she had been in bed with a vampire to herself.

Eden pried her off, smiling. "Nice jammies."

Missy laughed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand as Edgar and Alan glowered from a couple of feet away, looking worryingly like they wanted to chop Eden's head off and stuff it with garlic. "Um, Edgar, Alan," she began, with a placatory smile she hoped would make them less likely to attack. "this is Eden." It occurred to her, belatedly, as many things did to Missy, that she didn't actually know Eden's last name. "Eden, this is Edgar and Alan." She said, adding for some reason, "The Frog brothers."

Edgar and Alan nodded and grunted in sync, which was as creepy as it sounds. Neither of them offered a hand to shake, or obligatory pleasantries like "Nice to meet you!", or "So, how do you know Missy?" To be honest, Missy was half expecting them to make Eden eat a handful of raw garlic or whatever they did to tell if a person was a werewolf.

"Who's your boyfrien'?" Eden gestured with her chin at Marko, hovering in the doorway with an expression like he'd just smelled something awful on his face.

_What's his problem? _He didn't have any room to be sour, not about who she chose to be friends with, at least. Not so long as he was, and his friends were, brutal killers.

"He's not her boyfriend."

Why didn't it surprise her that Alan was the one to say it before she got the chance to?

Missy wanted to roll her eyes, but she'd been doing so much of that lately she was afraid she was going to dislodge one of them eventually. "That's Marko." She waved a hand. "Marko, Eden. Eden, Marko."

Eden and Marko locked eyes, the former affecting a knowing sort of grin as she glanced from the bandage on Missy's neck, to the curly haired boy by the door. "Well," she said, nudging Missy with her elbow. "you go, Miss."

Missy had to choke back the urge to whine that it was a vampire bite, not a hickey, and she certainly didn't have any romantic inclinations toward the vampire who'd given her the "love bite". At all. Heck, she thought Marko was mostly okay, and she'd still be sore at him if he bit her. Missy half-heartedly glared at him, partly because he was being rude to Eden for no good reason, and partly because he was snickering at her, which meant he'd been reading her thoughts again.

"Marko, don't you have to go meet Paul or something?" A stranger could have deciphered the tense way Missy was speaking, though she plastered on a sweet, blasé smile to make up for it. Edgar and Alan rubbernecked between the two of them, scowling. Missy didn't have to be able to read minds like Marko to know they wanted him gone too.

Marko stopped laughing like she'd shouted "blood sucker" at the top of her lungs, hardness creeping into his eyes as he eyed Eden askance. "Yeah." He said at last, sounding less than enthused.

"Bye." Missy insisted, frowning. Raising her eyebrows a fraction, a look that said "Well?"

A mischievous smile slid into its rightful place on Marko's lips, and Missy's heart fluttered before she went back to being worried about what that look meant. "First things first." He moved across the room, fast, but not vampire fast. The mortal eyes in the room had no trouble at all keeping up with him, particularly Missy's. It was a nice change. There was something predatory about the way Marko was looking at her when he finally stopped in front of her, and Missy saw Edgar and Alan tense up out of the corner of her eye, even if it wasn't for the same reason she did. "Where's my goodnight kiss?"

Shock pried Missy's eyelids wider, and Marko's left arm snaked around her waist before she could take the step back she knew he knew she was thinking of. _Don't even think about- _was all her mind had time to process before his gloved hand came up to cup the side of her head. She could feel his bare fingertips on the shell of her ear, and her breath hitched. "Marko." She hissed as venomously as she could, but he just smiled indulgently and leaned in.

Missy had read about kisses before. Time was supposed to slow down, everything stopped, birds sang, and sometimes there were even fireworks. Missy didn't get any of that. To be honest, she was a little disappointed that she could still hear the clamor from the boardwalk, the rolling thunder of the Giant Dipper and its screaming passengers. What she did get was the feeling of her heart doing the jitterbug in her chest, and Marko's arm like a warm, iron bar behind her back. She tried not to think about what his lips were doing to hers, to not get drawn into whatever dominance display Marko thought he was performing for Edgar and Alan's sake, but it was a losing battle, and she felt that white flag waving.

Marko's lips were softer than they had any right to be. She moisturized, she had an excuse, but his weren't rough or chapped at all, like she had imagined a boy's would be.

That part was nice. For the first couple of nanoseconds, she wondered when the gentle pressure of Marko's lips was going to switch to the painful bite of the deadly teeth she knew were lurking behind that innocent smile of his. It never came though, and the kiss remained sweeter, more chaste than a murderer should have been capable of. She started to count, and by the time she got to ten, it was over.

It was undoubtedly the longest, and somehow shortest ten seconds of her life.

Marko was showing enough teeth to put a crocodile to shame when he finally pulled away from her, just the barest hint of amber in his eyes. "Be careful." He whispered just against her cheek. "See you later, Missy."

__

_

* * *

_

"So what's the deal with the little commandos downstairs?"

Missy giggled, still unused to hearing Eden's voice again, seeing her look so comically out of place in her quaint little bedroom. Eden was loud, and flashy. Missy felt a little like Missy, Plain and Tall next to her, but Eden had a way of making her feel better about herself, even if she did look like a turkey next to a peacock when they were together. "They're not so bad once you get to know them."

Eden gave her a look, flicking ash off her cigarette onto Missy's nightstand.

"I'm serio-hey!" Missy squawked, leaning over to scoop the ashes into her half-empty pop can. "Don't do that." She admonished, giving Eden the can, along with her serious face.

God, she hated cigarettes.

"Bitch, bitch." Eden grumbled playfully, but winked at her as tapped her cigarette over the can's opening obediently.

Wisely and surprisingly, had been the one to suggest that she and Eden take their little reunion up to her room, where there was almost no chance of the detective that was looking for her actually spotting her. That may have been because Alan was too busy shooting daggers at her to speak to her. Missy knew she'd crushed Alan's tentative little unrequited feelings for her, and she felt terrible for hurting him, but it wasn't like she'd thrown her arms around Marko and yelled "Kiss me, you fiend!" She wanted to be furious that Alan was even mad at all, because one, they weren't dating, and two, she wasn't dating Marko either. Of course, thinking of Marko made her face get red and hot, and Eden was fixated enough on the topic of her and the curly haired vampire, she didn't need any more ammunition.

"So what'chu been up to, Blondie?" A tiny flame shadowed the lower half of Eden's face briefly in warm, orangey light before it was extinguished by the silver lid of her lighter. She inhaled from her cigarette, the coal on the end glowing brighter and dimming again as she exhaled the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, curling it up into her left nostril.

"That's so gross, Eden."

Eden snorted dismissively, blowing smoke out both nostrils. "Come on, Miss, tell me 'bout your boyfrien'." She waggled her dark eyebrows suggestively, instantly reminding her of a certain tall blonde vampire. "He kinda short. He make up for it elsewhere?"

"Eden!" Missy squeaked, turning red from her hairline to her shoulders. "He is not my boyfriend!"

"Uh, were ya there?" Eden gestured vaguely towards the door. "'Cause I was, an' I saw some toes curlin' out there, girl."

"Shut up." Missy could feel her whole face burning, and Eden sniffed casually.

"Jus' pointin' out the obvious."

"Do not. Tell me about L.A. How was it? Why are you in Santa Carla, anyway? Not that I'm not happy to see you, it's just a little unexpec-"

"Christ, girly." Eden cut in. "Take a breath."

"Sorry, it's just," Missy sucked the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, flashing white teeth as she bit on it. "I missed you. I didn't think we'd ever see each other again." She whispered, playing with the little wooden charm on the bracelet Eden had given her.

__

_"That's Ubuso, he's a guardian spirit. He's supposed to bring good luck and keep ya safe or some shit like that." _

"Neither did I, kid." Eden stared at the bracelet that had once belonged to her, and before that, to her mother. She shook her head. "But I couldn't pass through 'thout stoppin' in to say hi."

"Pass through?" Missy echoed, distraught. "But you just got here!"

Eden grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of her hair with the hand that wasn't holding a cigarette. "Yeah, been in town a while actually."

Missy scooted away from her like she'd swung at her. "You've been in town 'a while'," she snapped, bitterly making the air quotes with both hands. "and it never occurred to you to tell me?"

Eden looked a little bitter herself. "I kinda had other things on my mind, Miss, an' I'm here now, so get off my back."

Missy looked down at her bare knees, chastened. "Sorry, it's just, things have been really crazy lately and I really could've used someone to talk to about it." That wasn't a teenage boy, a vampire, or a half-vampire.

Eden laughed, reaching out to ruffle Missy's hair. "Hey, don' worry 'bout it, s'okay."

The door to her bedroom was pushed open, and Missy whipped around to glare at it. "Uh, knock?"

Edgar grunted at her, utterly deadpan. "Knock knock."

Missy sighed. "What do you want, Edgar?"

"Alan wanted me to give you these." He gestured with a stack of comics as thick as her head.

Missy's eyes grew. "Why?"

Edgar shrugged. "Ask him." He dropped the comics on the mattress beside her, they bounced once and leaned heavily to the side, threatening to topple right off the bed.

Missy leaned over and planted both hands on the top of the pile, steadying it, she frowned up at the younger Frog. "You know this is a really bad idea, don't you? Letting me stay here?"

"Could be worse." As surprised as she was by the new voice, Missy was even more shocked to see the dark haired Frog brother in the doorway. He tossed her a pear, which she narrowly avoided taking directly to the face. She got the impression Alan wouldn't have grieved if she had. It was ice cold, fresh from the fridge, and a little damp like he'd run it under the sink first.

Missy cradled the fruit with both hands, trying not to be as ridiculously relieved as she was to have Alan talk to her again, or to receive his attempt at a peace offering. "Please tell me how. And don't say vampires." She winced, and Eden snickered. "Wait, never mind. Don't say anything." She got the feeling that her luck was bad enough right now that any horrific scenario Alan Frog's warped mind might come up with would be the next problem she had to face. "I should be on a bus to nowhere right now. I should be changing my name. Or cutting off my hair." She flopped backwards onto the bed so her head dangled off the edge, her hair pooling on the floor beneath her. She winced at the sound of comics hitting the floor, glancing at Eden, and then back at Edgar and Alan. "People do that in movies when they're on the lam right?"

Alan kind of half-rolled his eyes as he crouched to retrieve the comics she'd spilled over. It looked strange to Missy, especially upside down. "You're not on the lam."

Missy frowned. "What am I on then?"

It was that moment, naturally, that Edgar chose to speak up. "I'm leaning towards drugs."

Missy snatched the pillow Eden was leaning on and winged it at Edgar's stupid, inverted smug face. "Go away. We're trying to have a conversation here." She smiled then, mouthing 'thank you' over at Alan. He still looked angry with her, but he was speaking to her some, and that was a step.

_

* * *

_

Missy waited until she heard the click of her door sliding back into place before she rolled her head to pout at Eden. "I'm going to strangle Marko next time I see him, I swear."

Eden snorted, dropping her cigarette butt into her soda can. "'Cause your fanboy's got his little Batman panties in a wad?"

Missy laughed, despite herself. "Is it that obvious?"

"Girl, that torch he's carryin' for ya is big enough to see from outer space." Eden said.

"I don't want to hurt his feelings." Missy shifted, sitting up and tucking her legs beneath her. "He's really sweet." Alan had been easily as abrasive as his brother when they first met, but while Edgar has stayed frosty, Alan had more or less warmed to her presence. Which of course only made it more difficult to get him to stop crushing on her, plus, it wasn't like Missy had a lot of experience with letting boys down easy.

"Don' know what to tell ya, Miss." Eden shrugged. "Don' like the look of that boyfrien' of yours, though. Maybe the little commando's a, ya know, safer choice."

Missy froze, her smile faltering before she yanked it back into place. "What do you mean?"

"Jus' a vibe." Eden said. "I mean, what do ya really know 'bout the guy? He seems like trouble to me."

Maybe Eden was a better judge of character than she was. "He's not so bad." Missy mumbled. David was a lot worse.

"Jus' be careful, Missy." Eden said. "You don' need to be goin' through what I did with Steve."

The urge to tell Eden that she was tired of people telling her to be careful almost won out, but what she said instead, was "I'll be careful, Eden. Promise."

"Good." Eden patted Missy's head as she slid off the side of the bed, tugging her skirt down as she stood.

"You're leaving?" Missy tried not to look as pathetic as she sounded.

"Nearly mornin', now. Goin' back to my motel so I can get some shuteye."

The events of the past several hours washed over Missy like a sudden wave, and she was struck by how very exhausted she was. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's really late. Will you come by the shop tomorrow though? I want to show you the boardwalk, oh, but I guess you've probably seen it all, seeing how you've been in town awhile."

"Oh, hush." Eden winked at her. "Tomorrow, yeah."

"Goodnight, Eden."

"'Night, Missy."

______

_____

* * *

_

_"Wake up, Missy."_

Missy's eyelids fluttered against something hard and cold, not her warm bed with its soft pillows and rough old quilt. She pressed her face harder against it, moaning. "Don't want to." Whatever it was, vampires, fire, flood, it could wait until she'd gotten her eight hours.

_"You have to get up, Missy."_ The wind whispered her hair away from her face, the soft, sweet words pouring over her like a tender hand stroking her cheek. _"Get up, Missy."_

"No." She could feel herself rising to consciousness, becoming aware of the cold, smooth metal pressed against her face, and why it was familiar to her.

Her eyes flew open, slick palms struggling for purchase on the polished surface she was lying on. She slid them up by her head, the cold air rushing up her nightshirt reminding her that she still wasn't wearing any pants. Grunting, she pressed down with both hands, forcing herself into a push-up position. She lifted her head, the wind blowing her hair back hard from her face. It stung, and though her surroundings blurred as her eyes began to water, she knew where she was.

"H-how did I get outside?" She mumbled, brushing her knees and pulling her shirt down as far as it would go. "Why am I talking to myself?" She asked. "I'm still talking to myself. Ugh."

She was dreaming, she realized, as she walked the still, quiet carousel platform, running her fingertips over the carved faces and painted saddles of the slumbering horses. She wrapped her hand around the brass pole running through a dark grey horse with a manic smile and dappling on his haunches, hoping that she was dreaming. The alternative was a lot more frightening. She caught her reflection in the mirrored panels lining the inside of the platform and started. She wasn't surprised to see herself pale and frightened, with messy hair, a teddy bear shirt, and a green Band-Aid. What surprised her was the smiling face hovering beside hers in the mirror. "Hello, Missy."

Screaming, she stumbled forward, putting distance, and an elegant, carved bench with cherubs on either side of it between her and the nightmarish hallucination.

"M-Mom?" She choked, gasping. A carousel was a lot safer than a bathroom. Plenty of stuff to hide behind, to keep mommy dearest from reaching her. It was probably hard to navigate with a broken neck, but dream or no dream, Missy wasn't giving any chances to let someone, especially her dead mother, get the jump on her.

"We should talk, sweetheart." The late Marie Van Buren dropped into the bench, the bones in her neck creaking as they grinded against each other. Missy gagged. Marie patted her cold, grey hand on the empty seat beside her. "Take a seat."

"No. Way." She may do stupid things on occasion, -associating with vampires, for instance- but she wasn't stupid. She whipped around, to do what, she didn't know, because it wasn't like she could storm off in a dream, but she couldn't stand looking at her mother like that anymore.

Dead people, apparently, weren't nearly as slow as they were supposed to be, because by the time Missy had gotten her back to her, Marie was standing in front of her again, wearing the same hospital getup she'd hanged herself in. Looking a lot more annoyed than Missy remembered, though.

"Ugh!" Missy screamed, tearing her fingers through her hair. "Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone!"

Marie planted her hands on her hips. "You're doing this to yourself, baby. What did you think was going to happen?"

Missy pulled her hands away from her face, peering tentatively through them at her dead mother. "What do you mean?"

Marie shifted, and her neck did too. Missy cringed, and tried not to stare at the bruises on her mother's neck. Something told her it wasn't polite, even in a nightmare. "Vampires."

Missy blinked. "What about them?"

Marie's expression softened, much as a seven year dead person's face could look soft. "They're killing you, baby."Even in a dream, stomping your foot was stupid and childish, and Missy knew, besides, that she was right. David's mark on her neck could attest to that, not to mention the nightmares, hello, and the fact that she'd gotten less sleep and puked more in the past couple of days than she had in the last five years.

"So what am I supposed to do about it?" Missy grumbled. If her subconscious wanted to work out its issues by having her talk to her gross, dead mother, fine. She'd talk.

Marie's dark, glassy eyes fixed on her. "Search me, sweetie. I'm just the messenger."

"So what's the message?" Missy snapped. "You haven't told me anything, and must you look like," she flapped her hand vaguely.

Marie smiled, drawing the purplish grey corners of her mouth up into a terrifying grimace. "You know."

"I so don't." Missy whined. "If I did I wouldn't be asking!"

Marie's image flickered and jumped, like static on a television. She tilted her head back, staring up at the dark, indigo sky beyond the carousel's canopy. "Time's almost up."

"What do you mean?" Missy frowned. "What's happening? You still haven't told me anything."

"Can't." Marie said sadly. "You're waking up."

"I am?" Missy's heart sped up. She was waking up. That was a good thing. So why was she so worried about it? "Wait." She said, but her mother's face was beginning to fade. "What were you supposed to tell me?"

"Guess you're going to have to work it out on your own, baby." Marie said. "Be careful, Missy."

"Be careful of what? Mom! Who? David?"

Marie smiled, just as the rest of her blinked out of existence, leaving only her gruesome, cadaverous smile. "Him too."

* * *

Missy came awake violently, with cold sweat on her spine and tremors through every part of her. She felt sick way up in her throat, to the point where she had to swallow repeatedly to keep from throwing up all over herself. She sobbed, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth.

"Bad dream?"

If it hadn't been for her hands over her mouth, her scream would have woken up the entire west coast.

"Paul!" She growled, ripping her hands away from her mouth. "Get out!"

Paul shook his head, smirking. "Jeez, babe, anybody ever tell you not to shoot the messenger?"

Her heartbeat stuttering, Missy whispered. "What did you just say?"

"He said 'don't shoot the messenger'." Marko came out of the shadows of her room, the darkness peeling back from him reluctantly like he was a part of it the dark couldn't stand to lose.

Why did that sound familiar?

"So what were you dreaming about?" Paul flopped onto the foot of her bed, bouncing her back into the headboard.

Missy rubbed the back of her head where it had struck the wall, frowning. "I don't remember." Which was even more unusual than waking up to two vampires staring at her. Missy almost always remembered her dreams, especially ones that made her wake up in a pool of her own terrified sweat. "I think it was important though."

Marko scrutinized the beads of sweat hanging on her temples, smiling gently. "Maybe it'll come to you."

Missy wiped at her eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. "Maybe. What are you two doing here?" She turned her wrist so her watch's face was shining up at her. "The sun's gonna be up soon."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've missed curfew for a girl, won't be the last." Paul crowed, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Marko. "Am I right?"

Marko laughed. "I'm surprised Paulie has any brain cells left after how many times his head's caught on fire."

That really didn't surprise her. Paul must be a walking fire hazard with as much hairspray as it takes to get hair to do what his did every night.

Shaking her head, Missy scrubbed at her eyes again with the heel of her hand. "Did you get to wrestle Jaws?" She asked the vampire lying across her feet, who fixed her with a look that should be illegal.

"Oh yeah." He smirked, raising up a little and slinking over her legs until he was practically in her lap. "Got me a war trophy and everything." He held something up for her to see, though in the dark, all she could make out was that it looked vaguely ropeish.

"Is it a noose so I can hang myself?" She grumbled, reaching out to take it when he snatched it out of her reach.

"Uh, no." He swatted at her reaching fingers. "If you don't want my present-"

Missy sighed. He was the one who had once again snuck into her room and disturbed her in the middle of the night. Was it her fault she was cranky? "Are you going to give it to me or not?"

Paul tapped his cheek with his forefinger, grinning like a wolf.

"Ugh." Men are men, undead or otherwise. Missy lifted her hand to her mouth and pressed her fingertips to her lips. "Here." She said, swiping her fingers over Paul's cheek. "Now give me whatever it is so I can go back to sleep, you may sleep all day, but I don't."

"Oh, come on-" Paul whined, but Marko's hand shot out and thumped the back of his bushy blonde head.

"Before dawn, Paul." He winked at Missy over Paul's head, and Missy flushed, remembering the way his kiss had felt. Paul either must have picked up on her thoughts, or heard all the blood rushing to her face, because he groaned.

"Paul." She and Marko said simultaneously, and the lanky blonde groaned louder. "Fine, fine. Here." Paul dropped whatever it was into her lap, and Missy scooped it up, holding it up close to her face so she could see it in her dark, windowless room.

"It's…ropeish." Paul snorted at her. "Well, I'm sorry. I can't see in the dark like some people."

"Here." There was some rustling, and then whatever Paul was holding in front of her clicked, and there was fire.

Missy yelped, and the vampires laughed. "Chill, girl." Paul said.

"It's just a lighter." Marko told her, his cherubic face looking devilish in the low light the flame was throwing off.

"Don't tell me to chill." Missy grumbled at Paul, trying not to look at Marko too much as her face heated and darkened. She raised her hand up to the light, illuminating what it was Paul had given her.

What it was, was a necklace. A length of tan, braided cord, and knowing Paul, it was probably hemp. Worked into the necklace was a series of tiny, dark blue beads swirled with light blue, and in the middle, a dark, quarter sized, tooth. "A shark's tooth? Where'd you get it?"

"Spoils of war, babe." Paul leered at her, waggling his eyebrows.

Marko was already snickering before Missy's thought had time to articulate itself into, "So why does it have a price tag on it?"

Paul tossed his crazy blonde hair, smirking. "It's the price of lookin' this good, babe! Must've fallen off my abs."

Missy tried really hard not to laugh, but she was giggling as Paul clambered across her lap, forcing her to scoot forward to make room for him behind her. She held her hair out of the way obediently, mumbling as Paul tied the necklace for her. "Why do I get the feeling this makes me an accessory to something?"

She could feel Paul's chest moving against her back as he laughed. "'Cause you know me too well."

Missy fingered the tooth's serrated edges. "Thanks, Paul. And I'm glad you didn't waste any money on me, seeing how David's going to finish what he started once his face grows back."

"Don't worry, girl." Paul leaned forward so his chin was pressing into her shoulder, his arms encircling her waist from behind.

"How can I not?" Missy reached up, gently touching her fingers to the Band-Aid on her neck. She could still feel David's fangs, and given her luck, she'd probably get the chance to feel them again before the memory faded.

"David'll chill." Paul shrugged behind her. "Always does."

"What if he doesn't?" Her options were ugly no matter how she looked at them, and seventeen years wasn't nearly long enough.

"Don't worry about it."

Missy ripped herself out of Paul's arms, her eyes attempting to locate his face in the dark so she could glare at it. "Is that your answer for everything? Don't worry? This is my life, Paul. It's not something I can just shrug off."

"Chill, girl." Paul held up his hands, trying to mollify her.

"Stop. Telling me. To chill." Missy hissed, jabbing her finger into Paul's chest with every other word. "My life is falling apart, David's trying to kill me, Renee's got a detective looking for me, and I think I might be going crazy, so if you don't mind, I think I'll remain warm, thank you." Missy could hear Paul smirking, and she groaned. If he made an allusion to temperature and physical attractiveness, she was going to strangle him. For all the good it would do her.

"We can't help you, Missy." Missy shut her eyes so she wouldn't see Marko coming, but she heard his jacket clattering as he dropped onto the bed beside her, close enough that she could smell the peculiar sweet scent the boys all seemed to share. "What do you want us to do?"

Lie to me, screamed her heart, but Missy's head knew what her heart didn't. An ugly truth was kinder than a pretty lie any day, but right now, Missy just needed to deceive herself.

Marko's arm came around her shoulder, and he tugged her into the side of his body. "David's not going to kill you."

"Good."

Paul shifted closer to her on her right. "And that detective guy's gonna quit looking for you."

Missy smiled. "I like the sound of that."

Marko whispered into her hair, "You're not going crazy."

Missy laughed. "I guess I worried for nothing, huh?"

"You're gonna be okay."

But she wouldn't be. Missy couldn't lie to herself, no matter how much she wanted to roll over and pretend that the last few days had never happened. David was going to be coming for her, and there was nothing Marko and Paul could, or would do about it. David was their brother at the end of the day, and Missy was nothing more than Happy Meal on legs to them, objectively.

"You should go." She whispered. "It's almost dawn."

The vampires got up from the bed simultaneously, and in the dark of her windowless room, she couldn't have said which one it was that leaned over at the last second and planted a kiss on the side of her face.

* * *

It was nice not to dream for a change. To fall into a sleep where her subconscious didn't push all her problems on her at once, and she could pretend for six-to-eight hours that her life didn't suck more than the telling of it. It was nice to wake up slowly, without feeling like she was going to be sick, or like her heart was going to explode in her chest. It was kind of refreshing, waking up on her own, without something or someone terrifying her into congestive heart failure. She immediately wanted to go back to sleep and do it all over again, that was just how good it felt.

Missy rolled until her face was pressed into the soft, cool fabric of her pillow, and she took a deep steadying breath, letting it out in quiet, hysterical giggles when she realized that her pillowcase smelled like vampires.

She wanted to stay in bed, but the wound on her neck was throbbing like David had bitten halfway through it, and she knew she should clean it again, or at the least, throw some more ointment and a fresh Band-Aid on it before going back to bed until noon. "Ugh." She moaned, forcing herself up onto all fours, shuffling backwards under her blanket like a demented hermit crab. She slipped out from under her quilt, stood at the foot of her bed and stretched her arms above her head until the bones in her back cracked. She yawned, wincing as the sore muscles in her neck were pulled taut. First things first, shower. Her life was so much easier to deal with when she'd had a nice, hot shower first thing in the morning.

Humming absently, she draped a pair of jeans over her left arm, along with a boat-neck pullover in -not red, too much like blood- grey, almost black. Nice and somber, because she was developing a theory that vampires were attracted to bright colors. Bra, panties, the works. She grabbed socks before she remembered with a twinge that she was going to have to go out a buy a new pair of sneakers if she survived the weekend. She threw the socks back and grabbed for her clear, jelly flats with the tacky, yet adorable rhinestones on the toes and heels, adding another note to her ever-growing list of things she probably wouldn't get the chance to finish: Buy more shoes. Funny how she couldn't stop making plans for the nonexistent future.

* * *

It was amazing the abuse the human body could take without breaking, and Missy's scrawny, postpubescent body was no exception. She turned her head this way and that in the mirror, continually wiping away the fog from her shower so she could see her neck clearly. David's bite looked worse than ever a day later, bruised and angry looking, radiating deep, yet dull pains from the points were his teeth had sunk in through her shoulder. She could see now that the marks had finished forming, tiny, purple indents where David's blunt, human teeth had pressed down into her skin as well. Marko hadn't been kidding. David really was a deep biter. She'd just count her blessings that there wasn't a giant ring of bruises around her neck where David had nearly strangled her, slap twice as many Band-Aids on her fancy new bite mark, and pray she wouldn't get an infection from his no doubt bacteria-riddled mouth.

Eden was sitting up next to the cash register when Missy came downstairs, carding her fingers through the damp snarls of her hair. For a brief moment, Missy started at the sight of the dark-skinned woman seated on the counter, with her left leg pulled up and a bottle of violently red nail polish sitting beside her foot. "Well," Eden drawled, her cigarette bobbing with each syllable. "mornin', sunshine."

Missy peered sidelong out the shop's open doors, surprised by what she saw. It showed in her voice. "It's dark out."

Had she slept the entire day? She'd never slept so long that she could remember, and more importantly, why hadn't Edgar or Alan gotten her up?

"Evenin' then." Eden shrugged. "Thought ya were gonna sleep all night."

Edgar appeared from the back room to drop a stack of comics heavily on the counter, frowning hard enough to make Missy's mouth hurt vicariously. "Get your ass off the counter."

"Oh, make me, ya little freak. An' watch it!" Eden snapped, snatching her nail polish out of the way before Edgar's second stack of comics could spill it.

"This is a business." Edgar began, stooping to retrieve yet another stack of comics from the box at his feet. "Not a slumber party. Go paint your toes somewhere else." He snapped. "And put that thing out. I'm not telling you again." He held a half-empty can out to her, staring pointedly at the cigarette between her lips.

Eden sneered. "Alrigh', ya little shit." She took one last, dramatically long drag off her cigarette before grinding it out on the countertop. "There. It's out. Happy?" She slid down off the counter to the floor, flicking her cigarette butt at Edgar and grumbling as she passed him. "Can' smoke in fuckin' peace 'roun' here, got fuckin' Rambo breathin' down my neck, don' know how ya manage 'thout killin' the both of 'em, Miss." She stopped at the foot of the stairs beside Missy to shout at them over her shoulder. "You're lucky she's such a fuckin' saint, I'da smothered the both of ya by now!"

Missy shook her head, pulling her hair down over David's bite to cover her neon pink bandages. Let Edgar and Alan assume she'd tripped, or accidentally poked herself with a fork or something. She wasn't about to correct them. "Do I have to separate you two?"

"He fuckin' started it." Eden grumbled at the same time Edgar hissed "I did not!"

"Hey, Missy." Alan said, his head rising up from whatever he'd been doing behind the counter. "Where'd you get that necklace?"

Missy winced mentally. Of course Alan would be able to locate the one new thing on her entire person, save for her awesome bite wound. "This old thing?" Missy laughed, longer than necessary, like the bad actress she was. "I found it the other night, said to myself 'Gee, it's been a long time since I've worn this.', and that's why you've never seen me wear it before. Because I lost it. But I found it. Which is why I'm wearing it. Right now."

"Right." Alan said, looking like he might have wanted to argue the point further if didn't know for a fact that if it wasn't for the space her brain was occupying, her head would be completely full of air.

What Edgar had to say on the subject was, "Gee?" with just the right amount of disgust and incredulity to make Missy give serious thought to throwing something at him.

"Eden, are your nails dry?" Missy asked, pointedly ignoring Edgar's question left hanging in the air like a foul odor.

"Jus' 'bout." The older girl replied, slipping her bare, brown feet into a pair of slick, metallic flip flops.

"Come on." Missy said, slipping her arm through Eden's and hooking their elbows. "I want to show you the boardwalk."

"Do I need to say it?" Edgar asked her, crossing his arms over his red and black checkered shirt.

Missy stopped, but didn't turn around. "Be careful or be in by one?"

Edgar grunted, but didn't say anything.

Missy turned her head, ignoring her throbbing neck wound and smiled through her hair at him. "I will." She said, and though she didn't specify, she had a feeling she was lying either way.

* * *

"So what do you want to ride first? The carousel's my favorite, but the Ferris wheel has the best view. I mean, you can see the whole boardwalk and it's really amazing. Do you like roller coasters? We could ride the-"

"Miss?" Eden's hands shot out like lightning, cupping her shoulders on either side gently.

Missy bit her lip to keep hold her mouth shut. "Mm-hmm?"

"Is somethin' botherin' you?" Eden asked. "Ya seem a little more," she made a vague gesture with her right hand that involved a lot of turning and wrist flapping. "'n usual."

"I'm fine." Missy insisted, yanking the sides of her mouth back up into a ridiculously insincere smile. She was doing a lot of that lately, and she couldn't help thinking she was forgetting how to smile like she meant it.

"Uh-huh." A line appeared between Eden's eyebrows, and she pursed her painted red lips. "You're a real shitty liar, ya know that?"

Missy's smile fell with her spirits. "Yeah, I know."

"So what's up?" Eden crossed her arms over her chest. "Ya get into a fight wit' your boyfrien'?"

Missy jumped a little, glaring hotly. "No.", she said, because she hadn't exactly fought with Marko, and because he wasn't her boyfriend either.

Eden made a face like she was about to point a finger at her and scream "Aha!" when a painfully familiar rumble cut through the din of the boardwalk night.

"Oh, please let me be hallucinating." She hissed, but when was her luck ever that good? Someone behind her shouted "What the hell?" as a pair of roaring motorcycles parted the boardwalk throng like scissors gliding through construction paper.

"Hey, Missay!"

"Just one night." Missy sighed. "Why can't I get one. Stupid. Night?" It was times like this that Missy wondered if she had a vampire tracking device hidden on her somewhere, or if she just had possibly the worst luck of any human being that ever lived. Probably the latter.

Paul was leaning on his bike's handlebars before his bike had even gotten to a complete stop. He cocked his head at her like a curious dog, affecting a smile that looked like it was threatening to fall in a nanosecond. "Hey, girl."

"Hey, Paul." Missy felt a crease forming on her forehead. Paul's roguish, devil-may-care expression was credible on the surface level, but his eyes reflected something that looked disquietingly like distress. She snuck a glance at Marko, perched on his bike beside Paul's, picking at his fingernails and managing to look bored enough to think a root canal sounded like a good time. _Marko?_ His eyebrows lifted up a fraction of an inch, and Missy took that to mean he'd heard her. _Is Paul okay?_ The corners of Marko's mouth twitched downward, and Missy figured that was as good a confirmation as any. Paul was clearly bothered, and Missy couldn't recall ever seeing him look like anything bothered him. She hadn't thought he had enough brain cells left to actually worry about anything.

Missy frowned, her mouth falling open to say something, when Marko cut in with a look that was equal parts mischief and charm, "Where're you going, Missy?"

"I have plans with Eden." She said, calmly, wondering how safe it was to be divulging anything personal to vampires.

Marko's head tilted slowly to one side, his smile anything but nice. "Sounds like fun."

Missy's mouth dropped open with an angry click. Marko didn't have any reason she could see to be nasty to Eden, she hadn't done anything to him. Being dead was no excuse for poor manners. She crossed her arms, and asked, even though she would have put money down on her not wanting to know the answer. "What are you two doing here?"

Paul laughed, and a grin, something more genuinely Paul slithered onto his lips. "We missed you."

Missy snorted. "I just saw you last night."

"Not just us." Marko leaned in, resting his chin on his arms, folded on his handlebars.

"Who then?" Missy asked, trying not to sound as tart as she wanted to be.

"Laddie." Paul said. "And Star.", he added as an afterthought, making a face like someone was taking their time shoving bamboo under his fingernails.

Missy's face fell a mile and kept going.

"Who's that?" Eden leaned into her side, bumping her shoulder into Missy's arm.

Missy bit her lip, finding Eden out of the corner of her eye. "Their…" She floundered for a second. "…sister." She said at last. "And their little brother. They're friends of mine too."

"Busy folks, huh?" Eden asked, and Marko's laugh was drier than the Mojave Desert.

Public nudity would have been less awkward, Missy felt, and she was annoyed that Marko and Paul couldn't pretend to be nice to Eden's face. They didn't have to be her best friend, but they could at least act like decent human beings, even if they weren't either. "I told you," Missy said firmly. "I have plans with Eden." _It is crucial to be strict with vampires_, her mind quoted like a motivational speaker, _otherwise they'll walk all over you._

"You know, Eden," Marko leaned over his handlebars, smiling softly. "You really haven't seen Santa Carla until you've seen the bluff."

"Bluff?" Eden echoed, one eyebrow arching. Missy blanched. _Marko. Don't._

"Hudson's bluff." Marko went on like he hadn't heard her, or didn't care for what he'd heard. "Overlooking the point. It's beautiful at night, isn't it, Missy?"

"Real pretty." Missy snapped. "Come on, Eden."

"We'd be happy to show you." Marko's smile was paper thin.

_What are you doing, Marko?_

"Really?" Eden said, watching Missy's quick-fire expressions like a hawk.

"Sure," Marko said, paying no mind to the stink-eye Missy was giving him. "any friend of Missy's…" He didn't go on, but his eyes said the rest. He welcomed Eden's company about as much as he would have a full body rash.

Eden's smile vanished, and Marko's to match her. They locked eyes.

For Missy, it was like watching a couple of lions fighting over a fresh kill, and she was the gazelle they were jerking around by the neck.

"Let's go." Missy took a step back holding Eden's wrist like it was the last rope hanging over a pit lined with spikes and shark infested waters at the bottom.

"Hang on, Miss." Eden leaned into her. "Don' ya wanna hang out wit' your boyfrien'?", she stage whispered, loud enough that there was no way even a normal person wouldn't have heard her.

"He's not my boyfriend." Missy insisted, though she was beginning to see the futility of doing so. "And no. I want to go. This way. Right now."

Marko rested his chin in his palm, smiling patiently at her. His voice was sweet and imploring in her head. _Please._ It lacked the punch that David's had, the edge that said she wasn't allowed to argue. Marko was giving her an option. David hadn't.

She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her biceps even though she was far from cold. "Where's David?" She asked, biting her lip.

"Out." Marko said, tilting his head.

"Out where?", and more importantly, when were they expecting him back? Missy wasn't about to cross David's path again so soon after burning him if she could help it.

Paul half-smirked. "Shopping for lip-gloss." Missy shuddered.

"Come on, Missy." Paul's mouth widened, and he clasped his hands together. "Pretty please?"

Missy wondered when she'd lost her mind completely, and she got that feeling again, that she was signing some sort of devil's contract for her eternal soul when she met Marko's eyes and said, "Fine."

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**Brutal, aren't I? Don't worry, baby birds, I'll feed you. Look for Missy's adventures to continue in chapter twenty. Be good, kids. See you soon, hopefully. Oh, and if you spot randomly italicized portions of this, blame the document editor, it took me three hours to convince it that no, I didn't want the entire thing italicized.**


	20. A Fractured Fairy Tale

**Here's to twenty chapters down, kiddies. I feel like I should make a toast or be humble. The end is nigh, folks, so hang on tight, and thanks for sticking with me so long.**

* * *

_"A peacefulness follows any decision, even the wrong one."_

* * *

Chapter Twenty

* * *

Objectively, Hudson's Bluff was pretty beautiful at night. The stars hung overhead like innumerable glittering gems thrown up by an artist's slapdash hand. The dark grey waves shattered against the cliff's broad base, churning up mountains of murky, flaxen colored foam as big as she was. The motorcycle hummed and vibrated, shook under her like an unruly horse, and rattled her teeth. The stale odor of saltwater and cigarette smoke wafted off of Paul's hair, and she ducked her head against his shoulder blades to avoid being blinded by the lighthouse.

Paul's back shifted under her. The side of her head that he was staring at began to prickle, and she snapped. "What?"

"You okay?" Paul's voice was indistinguishable from the roar of his motorcycle and the crash of the sea, but somehow Missy heard him, and she shook her head weakly in response.

She said, "Not really, no." and "Watch the road, please." for good measure, because Paul had the attention span of a ferret on a good day, and while he might've been able to walk away if he wrapped his bike around a tree or drove off the cliff, she wouldn't be.

Salty mist spattered her hair and clothes as the cave loomed into view, collecting in her eyelashes like dew on a spider's web. What was it, Missy wondered, about Santa Carla nights that made them seem so endless? Maybe it was just the nightmarish influences in her life as things were, but for Missy, the nights seemed disproportionately long compared to the days. Days, it felt, had come and gone, but the truth was that less than twenty four hours ago, those poor girls had been alive, and a little longer ago than that, Missy had been blissfully ignorant of what the dark hid. Still, it seemed that all she ever did anymore was pray for the dawn to come.

Eden sighed, "Whoa." as Marko helped her off his bike with one hand, looking like he'd rather be handling a live jellyfish than touching a single piece of her.

"Beautiful," the shortest vampire said, dropping Eden's hand abruptly before she was well and truly on her feet. "isn't it?"

Eden stumbled and Missy shot Marko a dirty look, swinging her right leg over Paul's bike to join her left. Paul intercepted her, lifting her effortlessly from the seat and pulling her up into his body. His hands molded to her backside like a pair of good jeans, and Missy reached up and hit him square in the forehead with the heel of her hand. "Watch it." She shoved at him, turning red.

Paul's eyes took advantage as she stormed away. He smirked, "Oh, I am."

As they descended the unsteady stairs to the mouth of the cave, Eden let out a low whistle. "Ya sure this place is safe?"

Marko spoke from somewhere near Missy's elbow. "Safe as houses.", he said, holding his hands out to help them down the jagged stones. Eden accepted, but Missy declined, sitting down on the stone and inching her way down it carefully on her own. She was against accepting help from vampires on principle alone, but she was also against cracking her head open. The independence lost its appeal if they had to help her up off her bloody face, anyway.

"Missy?"

Star swept out from behind the shimmering curtain that shrouded her bed from the rest of the cave. Her dark eyes were large, and her hand came up to clasp weakly at the air in front of her mouth, like she was trying to hold her words back. "Oh my God." She whispered.

"Missy?" Laddie appeared behind her, a smile splitting his dirty face across the middle. "Missy!" Dust and several pigeons flew into the air as he ducked around Star, throwing himself into Missy's stomach and legs with all the force of a tiny linebacker. "I missed you." He mumbled into the soft fabric covering her belly. "Don't go away again, okay?"

Missy was smart enough not to make pie crust promises, so she said nothing, stroking the back of his head gingerly. His little arms tightened around her as Star came to them, her bare feet padding soundlessly on the dirt floor. "What are you doing here?" She clutched her shawl to her chest, huge, dark eyes flickering in Eden's direction. "Who's this?"

"Eden.", said the owner of the name, a dark, red nailed hand proffered. "Langley."

Star flinched away from the hand, "Star."

Eden didn't seem offended. She just smirked. "Ya'll aren't big on last names 'roun' here, are ya?"

Paul snorted over the sound of his lighter clicking to life. "Who needs 'em?"

_Last names? We don't need no stinkin' last names. _Missy thought, and Marko cocked a half-smile in her direction.

"So what is this place?" Eden's feet carried her closer to the dilapidated fountain, her fingers spinning one of the bizarre mobiles slowly. Dust sprinkled down from it like dusky snow.

"A hotel." Marko said. "At least it used to be, about eighty-five years ago."

Missy remembered this story. The way David told it, the cave that the boys lived in had at one time been one of the hottest resorts in Santa Carla, maybe California, until an earthquake and a poor choice in locale dropped it right off the map. How or when the boys had come across it, she didn't know. Or care.

"And ya…live here?" Eden's voice rose on the last word, along with her eyebrows. "Nice."

Paul lifted his bushy head, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Where's Dwayne?"

Star frowned at him, prying Laddie away from Missy. "Looking for David."

Missy's eyes grew. "Chill out, Miss." Paul punched her shoulder gently, gently for a vampire, that is, and brushed past her to flop on the couch. "Who's David?" Eden asked.

No one answered.

* * *

"You want to hold one?" Missy lifted her head partway off her knees, blinking at the curly haired vampire perched on a cluster of rocks on the opposite end of the lobby. It was nice of him, she thought, to give her so much space, especially considering she was a guest in his home, and little more than take-out, all things considered. He had his feet up on a stack of pizza boxes about half as high as he was.

Vampires. Not the best housekeepers.

A few of the pigeons that also made the cave their home were roosting around him, one sleeping in his lap, even. It amazed her, seeing them like that. Of course, there were pigeons in Seattle too, but none of them were as relaxed around humans, well, vampires, technically, as Marko's were.

That being said, Missy had to assume that Marko was asking her if she wanted to hold a pigeon. She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "No thanks."

"They don't bite." He assured her.

Why was it that when someone didn't want to hold an animal, people always assumed it was because they were afraid it was going to bite them? Missy was a little more worried about the various parasites and diseases the winged rats were most definitely carrying. "What's more resounding than no? Heck no?"

Missy saw the corners of Marko's mouth twitch upward, and he gave her a mischievous sidelong glance. "Or hell no, for those of us who aren't five."

Missy mustered up a lukewarm glare. Vampire or not, Marko was hard to be mad at. "Hell no, then."

"Chicken?" Marko asked, grinning like a fox.

"Which of us is five, again?"

Missy had never thought of herself as a stupid person, but what she was doing now, where she was, there wasn't another word for it. She could feel herself beginning to smile. It was too easy to smile around Marko, to forget that he was only pretending to be a normal guy. Must be what made him such an effective killer, she mused, that he appeared so harmless. It was easier to convince people you weren't a demon if you looked like an angel. Marko didn't look like a killer at all. Sitting there with his birds, it was hard to see the monster hiding behind the pretty mask. The truth was he'd killed a girl right in front of her. Scratched her eyes out and kicked her head like a soccer ball. The pigeon didn't seem to know or care that the fingers that were stroking it belonged to a murderer. "It's so calm."

"She." Marko corrected instantly, with a tone that suggested he had to do that a lot. "And yeah."

"She." Missy echoed, biting her lip. Marko furrowed his brow, tilting his head at her. "I thought animals could sense evil?"

Marko rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Come over here."

"I'm good over here." Far away from the disease-ridden rats with wings.

Marko frowned at her for that. "Don't call them that."

"I'm sorry." She'd touched a nerve, evidently. Missy hadn't even known vampires had feelings to hurt.

Marko touched the bird's head fondly. "David calls them that."

"I'm sorry again." She said, and though every fiber of her being told her not to (partly because it was hard to shake the notion that pigeons were dirty creatures, and partly because she was still a little afraid of the creature holding the pigeon) she got up from the fountain and began to pick her way through the crates and rubble that littered the floor.

"Scaredy-cat." Marko teased.

"Am not." Missy shot back from where she'd stopped, about a foot from the rock where Marko was sitting.

"Are too."

"Am not." One of the pigeons sitting behind Marko flapped its wings and took off into the air. Missy squeaked and threw up her hands to cover her face.

Marko snorted at her. "Come here." His hand shot out and curled around hers, and before she could begin to protest, he tugged her down onto the rock beside him. The pigeon in his lap flapped once indignantly at being jostled, but didn't fly away. "I can't believe you're scared of a bird. They're harmless."

Did the words Alfred Hitchcock and "The Birds" mean nothing anymore?

"I'm not scared of the bird, Marko." Missy mumbled, though she inched away from it, nonetheless. "It's just, animals don't like me." Her relationship with animals had been, for the majority of her life, mostly indifferent. She avoided them, and typically they paid her the same courtesy. There were, however, the rare few (like the tabby cat her grandmother had had when she was little) who went out of their way to try and attack her.

"You're kidding." Marko said, looking both surprised and amused by her glared.

"What?"

"You're a girl." Marko said.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Aren't animals and little kids supposed to just love you by default?"

Missy wondered what sort of stories Marko had been reading. "I'm not Snow White, Marko."

Marko made a humming noise and walked his fingers up to the crook of her arm, raising the fine, gold hairs with his icy caress. Missy shivered, and Marko grinned like a shark. "Yeah, you are."

"Hmm." Missy rubbed her hands over her arms. "Which one of the dwarves does that make you?"

Marko growled at her, a grin overtaking his youthful face. "Short jokes. Cute." He said, then, "Here.", and dumped the dozing bird into her unguarded blanched like he'd poured a bucket of live scorpions down the back of her shirt, sticking her hands up in the air to avoid brushing them against the fluffy pigeon.

"Relax." Marko reached over and wrapped his hands around hers. "She's friendly." He said, guiding her trembling fingers around the bird's abdomen.

Missy could feel the bird's heart thrumming against her palms, like a firefly trapped in a child's cupped hands. "You might feel differently if she pecks my eyes out."

"I've never seen a pigeon attack anyone."

"Just wait." Missy said, straight-faced. She'd been attacked by stranger animals before. Cats, naturally, but also dogs, a goat, a handful of squirrels, three different hamsters, and even a box turtle once.

Marko laughed outright at that. The bird Missy was holding starting awake at the sound, knocking her hands away with the frightened beating of her wings. "Don't egg her on!" Missy shrieked, whipping her hands out of the way before the bird could bite them.

Marko coughed, still snickering. "You were attacked by a turtle?"

"Shut up." Missy grumbled.

It was dangerous, humoring the thought of being friends with Marko. It reminded her of those people who liked to keep tigers as pets and dress them up in funny little outfits, but were somehow still surprised when the thing tried to take their head off. Given that it were hungry enough or angry enough, just about any animal was capable of turning on the hand that fed them. The truth of the matter was, wild animals didn't make good companions, and neither did vampires.

Marko steered her hands back around the pigeon's fluffy middle, still chuckling.

Missy glanced at Star, sharing a couch with Eden, looking horrified by whatever Eden had been telling her for the past ten minutes. Biting her lip, Missy turned back to Marko, who was watching her.. "Why did you kiss me?" She asked.

Marko's hands left hers, and he shrugged, smiling mildly. "I got to have a reason?"

Missy frowned, her eyebrows scrunching together. "Of course."

Marko laughed a little. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I shouldn't be kissing you." Missy opened her hands, letting the bird wriggle free of her and take flight.

"Why?" Marko asked, his jacket clattering as he shifted closer to her.

Missy turned away, sighing, "You know why." Marko was a murderer. She couldn't kiss a murderer. Besides, she knew where his mouth had been, and it was nowhere she wanted hers.

Marko poked the back of her neck with an icy finger. "That doesn't mean I can't kiss you."

Missy tilted her head to glare at him over her shoulder. "I'm not going to argue semantics with you."

"So don't." Marko said.

Missy watched him lean closer to her like it was happening in slow motion, and this time, she had enough forethought to get out of the way. She slid off the rock, leaving Marko to suck on empty air as she backed away from him. "I said don't." She hissed at him, annoyed and flustered.

"Missy," Marko began, but Missy flapped her hands to cut him off.

"Don't." She said. "Just don't."

* * *

It was raining. Missy could hear it from the mouth of the cave, and she followed the sound of water hitting earth and rocks until she could feel the icy wetness of the night air on her skin.

Laddie was standing under an overhanging rock, holding his hands out under the rain to collect it in his dirty palms.

"What're you doing out here?" Missy asked him, and he didn't jump, like she'd expected. Either she wasn't good at sneaking, or Laddie had very good hearing. Both, probably.

Laddie dumped the water out of his hands, turning to face her. "I like it when it rains."

Missy half-smiled. "Me too." The sound of rain conjured memories, some fonder than others, for her. "I used to get sick all the time when I was little 'cause I'd stay out trying to catch fairies in jars."

Laddie tilted his head back to look up at her. "What fairies?"

Missy crouched down, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Didn't you know that inside every raindrop, there's a little fairy?"

Laddie's face scrunched up as he laughed. "No there's not."

"It's true." Missy laughed too. "Fairies love to play in the rain. They fly way, way up to the clouds where the rain comes from, and when they get there, they climb inside the raindrops and ride them all the way back down to the ground."

Laddie squinted out into the dark rain. "How come I can't see them?"

"Because." Missy stuck her hands out, cupping them so they filled with cool rainwater. "Fairies are too clever to be caught." She whispered, letting the rain spill through her fingers.

Laddie watched the water sprinkle on the dry dirt under their feet. "Where do they go after that?"

"Back up." Missy tilted her head, smiling. "Back up to the clouds."

They were quiet, for a while, and then Laddie whispered, "Missy?"

"Yeah, Laddie?" Missy felt him shift closer to her. She couldn't see his face in the low light, but she knew he could see hers.

"I don't want David to kill you."

Missy's heart broke a little. Laddie was just a little boy, even if he was a half-vampire, he shouldn't have to worry about things like that. She was seventeen and _she_shouldn't have to worry about things like that. What could she say to him? She was scared too, but she was older, she was supposed to be the strong one. "Laddie." Missy pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around his thin, shaking shoulders and bringing her hand up to pet the back of his hair. "It's okay. Don't worry about that."

"What if David kills you?"

What if David killed her?

Missy shook her head, rubbing Laddie's back. "Don't worry about that, okay?"

Laddie sniffled into her shoulder, wiping his face back and forth. "I don't want you to die."

"Me either." But there was nothing she could do about David, short of driving a stake through his heart when he was sleeping, and she didn't even have the heart to squash spiders.

"Can't you be like us?"

Missy's breath hitched as she answered vehemently. "No, Laddie."

"You can!" Laddie insisted, pulling away from her to stare up at her. "I can do it! Dwayne can show me how!"

Missy grabbed his shoulders. "Laddie, no."

"Why not?" Laddie cried, wiping at the tears on his dirty face. "Don't you like us?"

"Of course I do." At least, most of the time she did.

"So why?" Laddie sniffled.

"Because, well," Missy touched his face, sweeping his hair back gently. "because I wouldn't make a very good vampire."

"How come?"

"I can't hurt people, Laddie. I can't even squish bugs."

"You can be like me and Star."

"Laddie." Dwayne's sharp voice cut through the sounds of tears and rain, and Missy's head shot up to stare at him, eyes wide and horrified. Laddie sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. "Go to Star."

"But Dwayne-"

Dwayne didn't say anything, but his eyes darkened, and Laddie's tears stopped like a switch had been flipped. "You mean it?" He asked, a little smile tiptoeing onto his lips. Dwayne nodded, just barely.

"Bye Missy!" Laddie scurried past Dwayne, shouting "Star! Star!" at the top of his tiny lungs.

Missy stared after him, blinking slowly as she got up off her knees. "What did you say to him?"

Dwayne must not have been in a chatty mood, go figure, because he just stared at her, a little like he was watching a bug crawl across the cave floor.

"Do me a favor and stamp your feet next time." Missy told him, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a step back from the cool wetness outside the cave. "I don't like it when you guys sneak up on me." Dwayne looked like he might have been thinking about laughing at her, so Missy changed the subject by asking a question she really didn't want him to answer. "Did you find David?"

Dwayne nodded imperceptibly, coming in from the rain to stand under the jutting stone. He was soaked, his hair hanging down around his face, the leather of his jacket creaking quietly as he shifted.

Missy bit her lip. "…how was he?" It wasn't that she would've been unhappy to hear that David was suffering, she just wanted to know how angry he was, because it correlated to how badly he was going to hurt her. Dwayne didn't answer, and Missy bit her lip to keep from whining at him. "Dwayne?"

The vampire's turning back was her answer. The thunder took his footsteps, and he was gone like a mirage. Only she and the night knew he'd ever been there. She stared at the dark patches of dirt where the water had dripped off his hair. In the glow of the moon, it looked too much like blood.

* * *

Marko's footsteps sounded like a herd of elephants tap-dancing on broken glass after Dwayne's, and Missy realized he was must have been doing it on purpose. "Eavesdropper." She mumbled bitterly, flopping down on a lumpy grey armchair. Dust flew up around her, and she sneezed quietly into her shirt sleeve.

It was when Marko laughed at her, and she turned to tell him not to, that she noticed he had something in his hands.

"Ugh." She yelped, edging away from the pigeon. "Did you come over here just to torment me?"

"What makes you say that?" Marko asked, moving to perch on the arm of her chair.

Missy flapped a hand at the bird. "That. You won't be satisfied until one of those things scratches my eyes out." She answered him.

Marko eyed the bird thoughtfully, but he didn't say anything.

"Where's Paul?" She asked, glaring petulantly at her knees and picking at a hole in the denim that hadn't been there until recently.

"Around." Marko said.

"What, is he hiding?"

Marko tilted his head at her. "Yeah."

"He's a vampire." Missy said. "What could he possibly be afraid of? Vampire hunters." A beat. "Or other vampires, I guess."

"I didn't say he was afraid." Marko shrugged. "He's sulking."

"Oh jeez. What for?" Marko's eyes fixed on something over the back of her chair and she looked, despite the tempting urge she had not to, and spotted Dwayne lurking in the light coming from one of the barrels. She turned back around and glared at Marko. "Why is Dwayne making that face at Eden?"

Marko half-smiled, tossing the pigeon he was holding up into the air. "What face?"

Missy flinched. "His 'I want to kill something' face."

"How is that different from his 'Hey, it's Wednesday.' face?" Marko teased.

"What is your problem with Eden?" Missy snapped. "You have been rude to her since you met her, and she's been nothing but nice to you all. So what's the deal?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you lying to me?" Missy tried not to whine, she really did. It was unappealing, and annoying, but she couldn't help herself. "She hasn't done anything to you. She's my friend, Marko."

Marko pinned her with a steely glare. "Are you sure?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Missy snapped. "Of course I am. She's never bitten me," Marko's frown deepened. "or thrown _fingers_ at me," she snapped, "or kicked heads at me!" She hissed for good measure, intensely satisfied to see Marko wince. "Now you either tell me why you have such a problem with Eden, or we're going home."

"Missy," Marko began, looking a little pained. "I can't."

"Ugh." Missy made a sound as close to a growl as her human voice box could manage. "You're as bad as Star!"

She snatched Eden's hand as she stormed away from Marko, grumbling. "We're leaving."

"Sure." Eden rose from the couch, cautiously slipping her hand out of Missy's. "We walkin'?"

"Yes." Missy hissed. She wasn't about to beg for a ride home from a bunch of vampires.

"Ya okay?"

"Not really."

Eden nodded, shrugging on her jacket. "'kay, s'go." She turned to smile over her shoulder at Star. "Nice meetin' you."

Star stared up at her with wide, sad eyes, nodding gently.

Dwayne drifted out of the firelight, joining them in all the time it took Missy to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Let me give you a ride." He said, his eyes straying to Eden and darkening.

"No." Missy would have stomped her foot if it wouldn't have been ridiculous and embarrassing. "We're walking."

"It'll take you hours on foot."

Missy gave him a pointed look. "I've done it before." She tried not to squirm, but Dwayne had a powerful stare, and she didn't like being on the business end of it.

"I wouldn't mind a ride." Eden said, raising a hand slowly. Missy stared at her with her jaw at her feet. Could she get no support? "Sorry, Miss." Eden shrugged. "Ya know what these shoes'd do to my feet?"

"I'll give you a ride." Marko appeared very suddenly at Missy's elbow, and she jumped, glaring at him. "Missy can ride with Dwayne."

"Missy has two functioning legs and a mind of her own, thank you."

"Come on," Eden teased, grabbing her hips and shaking them playfully. Missy swatted at her, somehow managing to keep up her stern face. "Ya know ya don' wanna walk."

Missy frowned at Marko, biting her lip. Maybe he was trying to make up for being so mean to Eden? "…okay." She said at last.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**I have truly given up on trying to set any sort of deadline for myself, but please don't fret, I have not given up on this story, and I will not until the very last word of the very last chapter is written, even if takes me forever to get a new chapter up. Oh, and my little brother (who recently discovered this site) keeps comparing my story to the others he has read and has told me that I need to whore myself out for more reviews because apparently 126 is shameful. So, um, review, I guess?**


	21. That River In Egypt

_"Everything will be alright in the end. So if it is not alright, it is not yet the end."_

* * *

Chapter Twenty One

* * *

The rain had all but stopped, abruptly, the way summer showers often did. The clouds remained in a murky, aubergine haze behind which the stars glittered meekly like foggy diamonds. The night air crowded around them, oppressively thick and pregnant with unspent moisture, pushing in on them like a moist vice.

Dwayne's bike ate up the ground like it was trying to outrun the humidity itself, gliding over the uneven terrain as effortlessly as if over slick, unblemished pavement. Of course, they might have been standing still for all the good it did them. Missy realized, with some dismay, that she could already feel her hair puffing up like warm bread dough, and they'd barely come halfway to the boardwalk. She struggled with the urge to take one of her hands away from Dwayne's cool, bare waist to pat her hair down, and the only thing that stayed her arm was the fear that if she let go, she'd be sucked backwards off the bike and left to hang there in the air like Wile E. Coyote until she looked down, whereupon her face and the ground would perform a gruesome reenactment of Newton's first law.

Missy didn't know a lot about motorcycles or psychics, but she knew enough about inertia to know that in the ongoing epic of her face versus the ground, her face rarely came out on top, or in one piece, for that matter.

She thought she could feel Dwayne's abdominal muscles jerking beneath her tightly interwoven fingers, and supposed that he might have been laughing at her. That, or the banality of her thoughts had triggered his gag reflex, and he was about to be violently sick all over himself.

It was a tossup.

The bitter wind clawed at her face, and she grumbled petulantly, "I told you not to do that." She ducked her head against the hair that spilled down over the back of Dwayne's jacket, blinking the water out of her eyes and breathing in the rain that still scented the damp, tangled strands.

Missy had reconciled herself to the fact that David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul were unapologetic, bloodthirsty killers, and that she would be long dead and turned to dust before that was ever going to change. Which would have been bad enough on its own, without having to screen her thoughts against curious vampires who snickered like errant teenage boys one minute, and ripped someone's throat out the next.

Of course, none of that (though, admittedly, the throat ripping came pretty close) to being half as unsettling as the realization that she'd never know for sure that she was in control of her own actions, that David wasn't pulling her strings for her.

By all rights, she knew she should have been six feet under by now, Lord knows David had had ample opportunities to finish her off by know. She was only alive because either David didn't really want her dead, or because he didn't want her dead yet.

Her train of thought derailed violently when the nose of Marko's bike abruptly cut in front of them, close enough that the fox tail hanging from the left handlebar brushed the back of her arm. The noise that came out of her was something like the sound of an animal being trod under foot. "Is he crazy?" She hissed. "He could've killed us!"

Dwayne did not as much as blink to acknowledge their near miss. Missy leaned into his shoulder to watch Marko's taillight fade. "Where's Marko going?" She hissed. "The boardwalk is this way." She indicated the direction they were headed by raising her chin. "He went left. Why did he go left? Where's he taking Eden?" Her heart skipped abruptly. "Dwayne. Is Marko going to kill Eden?" A beat. "Dwayne?" She squeezed her arms around him desperately to get him to say something, anything.

"No." He said at last.

"Where's he taking her then?" Dwayne didn't respond this time.

Shocking, really.

Missy sighed. "You know, this whole 'strong and silent' thing is really unattractive." She watched the corner of Dwayne's darkly stubbled mouth curl in the flashing light from the boardwalk. He steered them into the crowd, his smile growing at the edges as Missy grumbled near the vicinity of his ear, "Stupid mind-reading vampires."

* * *

The bike rolled to a stop near the carousel, the jaunty music swelling up over the noise of the engine. Her thoughts strayed unwittingly to her mother, and she couldn't help feeling that there was something she was supposed to be doing. _Not doing_, her mind corrected. Dwayne killed the engine and squeezed her knee to get her attention. She slid off the bike to join him beside it, bending down to rub the feeling back into her legs, and the feeling of Dwayne's hand out. "You ever get that feeling you're forgetting something really important?" She straightened up, glancing sidelong at the vampire, whose dark eyes revealed nothing but her frustrated reflection. "Of course not." She mumbled.

"How do you know it's important?" Dwayne said after a long time of watching Missy watch him.

"What's important?" She replied, confusion alighting on her face.

"What you're forgetting," said Dwayne. "How do you know it's important?"

"I don't." She admitted. "It's just a feeling I have, like you get when something's wrong, I can't explain it. Don't vampires ever get weird vibes?"

Dwayne tilted his head. "Don't say vampire." He stepped away from her and disappeared into the crowd.

Missy jogged lightly to catch up to him, calling loudly over the din. "Sorry." She adjusted her long stride to match his. "Continue?" Trying to get a conversation out of Dwayne was about as difficult and pointless as trying to get blood from a stone, but it occupied her thoughts, and that was preferable to worrying herself to death about everything else. She'd take what she could get.

"Have you ever been to a cemetery?"

"Once." After her mother's suicide, her father had gone to war with their church to get them to permit her burial. In the end, they'd had her cremated and spread the ashes over the lake beside her grandparents' cabin. The only time she'd set foot in a cemetery had been for her father's funeral.

"Certain places," he gave her a significant look. _Places like cemeteries_, her mind supplied for her. "give off certain energies. You call them 'weird vibes'. It's why humans find them so unsettling." Dwayne's cold fingers brushed her nape. "Have you ever had the hair on the back of your neck stand up for no reason?"

Missy swatted at his hand. "Who hasn't?"

"Most humans can pick up on the unnatural, or supernatural" he added with a sly sideways glance. "to a certain extent. Some are just more sensitive than others. Psychics, mediums…vampires."

"If that's true," Missy asked, crossing her arms and slipping her hands up the opposite sleeves. "then how come I didn't 'sense' or whatever, what you all were?" She'd gotten the impression from the moment she met them that the boys were dangerous, but nothing about them had clued her in to the fact that they weren't human.

"I did say _most_." Dwayne pointed out.

"Hmm." Missy mumbled, letting her head drop a little, until her chin brushed her chest.

"Do you eat hamburgers?"

Startled, Missy's head shot up, and she gaped at the vampire at her side. _That's quite a segue_, is what she thought. What she said, was "Huh?"

Dwayne lifted his chin, and Missy followed his gaze, to the overweight, sweaty vendor some five yards away, slapping half-thawed patties out on a hot griddle, where they sizzled and popped in the old grease that had been used to coat it. The smell slammed into her like a wall, an unpleasant cocktail of stale grease, raw meat, and BO.

Her nose crinkled up, and she gagged, her vision going dark for a heartbeat. "Those aren't hamburgers." She didn't know what they were. Crusty, grease sodden slabs of pestilence, maybe, but not burgers.

Dwayne cracked a bit of a smile. "But you do eat them?"

"Sure." She conceded tentatively. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a bad feeling (a vibe, if you will) uncoiled itself like a drowsy snake. She wasn't going to like where this conversation would end up.

"You understand where they come from."

Missy scoffed. She wasn't sure whether to laugh, or be offended. All the same, she knew Dwayne was expecting her to do more than make noises at him. She tucked her hair behind her ears, settling into a frown. "I know where hamburgers come from, Dwayne." She could remember being small, biting into thick, juicy hamburgers and knowing with absolutely certainty that there were a bunch of cows walking around somewhere with great chunks taken out of them, perfectly happy and alive despite their missing bits. "I'm seventeen. Not seven."

Dwayne chuckled at her thoughts, and Missy felt her ears heat up. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" He replied, trying and failing for innocent.

"You know what." Missy replied tetchily, wholly unsurprised to discover that Dwayne wasn't in the least bit affected by her bile. She needed to get away from the smell of burning flesh. It made her sick, made her wonder; about what the boys did with the bodies left over after they had their fill, whether they burned them, or if they just pitched them off the edge of the cliff and let the tide carry them out to where no one but the sharks would ever find them.

"Do you like hamburgers?"

"Oh for goodness' sake, yes." Missy snapped. She stopped walking and turned to face him, Dwayne matching her movement for movement. "Yes, I eat hamburgers. Yes, I like them. If you have a point, please, make it. Or are you just frustrating me for chuckles?"

Dwayne waited for her to finish, and then, as though she hadn't spoken at all, went on. "Do you find you enjoy hamburgers any less because something had to die for them to be made?"

Missy's jaw locked up tighter than a bank vault. "I don't want to talk about that, Dwayne." She ground out, averting her eyes.

Dwayne tilted his head placidly. "You criticize us for enjoying what we eat."

"What you eat-" Missy choked. How did they even get to this topic? She took a deep, steadying breath. "People, Dwayne. People. What you do is murder. It's not like going to a restaurant and ordering a steak."

Dwayne's expression darkened. "You're a hypocrite."

"I am not a hypocrite." Missy dug her blunt fingernails into the soft heels of her hands, her lips trembling as something like unadulterated indignation flooded her veins. "There's a big difference between enjoying hamburgers and ripping out someone's insides just because you can." She broke off, licking her lips. "People aren't cows, Dwayne. They're people. They have families who care about them, who'd miss them. Doesn't that bother you?" She didn't know if her opinion of him would be unchanged if he did, but part of her wanted to hope that there was something human underneath the monster. "Not even a little?

"Not as much as starving would." Dwayne replied. "It's self-preservation. It isn't any more complicated than that. We can't help enjoying ourselves any more than you can when you're biting into a nice, juicy hamburger." The comparison made her skin want to crawl right off her body and die. "We're not martyrs, Missy. We don't pretend to be. We don't hate what we are or what we do to survive. We don't feel remorse for these people. They're nothing to us. Everything in nature is food for something else. It just so happens we're the ones sitting at the top of the food chain. Besides, we kill because we have to, can any of you say the same?"

It was a horrific concept to swallow. It was also the longest conversation she could remember Dwayne ever having with her directly. "You can't tell me you don't feel anything. You used to be a person, didn't you? You can't just forget that."

"It's difficult in the beginning." Dwayne acknowledged. "The memories of being human, they're still…fresh."

Missy didn't want to ask, -she wasn't sure she wanted to know- but she did anyway. "So what changed?"

"We did." Dwayne peered critically at the humans milling around them like bees in a hive. "Eventually you forget. You wonder why you were ever bothered in the first place." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "You're human. And young." He added, giving her a long, faintly condescending look. "You wouldn't understand."

"Vampire or not, it doesn't bother you that these people," she gestured to a man and a woman wearing matching tracksuits. "have families?"

"We're careful." Dwayne tapped the side of his head, and Missy, for once, understood what was being hinted at. "It's not that hard. You could throw a rock in any direction on this boardwalk and hit someone that the world wouldn't miss."

"Someone like me?" Missy whispered. Dwayne's expression may have been perfectly blank, but it said everything he didn't. "You're right. I'd be the perfect victim. No family, no friends. Heck, Edgar and Alan are probably the only ones who'd notice I was gone, and they don't even know my last name."

Dwayne tilted his head. "What is your last name?"

Missy bit her lip. She didn't see what it mattered, but it couldn't hurt, telling him. There was nothing more he could do with her full name that he couldn't do to her without it. "Van Buren."

"Missy Van Buren?" Dwayne arched an eyebrow imperceptibly.

"Melissa." Missy sighed. "Melissa Van Buren."

"Melissa." Dwayne's fingers skimmed her collarbone, lifting her locket from where it had settled above her cleavage, turning it around in his palm to read the back. "Why does it say 'Missy'?"

"My-" She froze, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling all at once. She was no psychic, but she knew when she was being stared at. She'd had enough eyes on her back to know it when she felt it. It was not unlike having a bucket of live earthworms dumped on top of her.

"What's wrong?" Dwayne asked, staring down at her arms as if he could see the goose pimples she could feel breaking out beneath her sleeves.

"Nothing." A hard stare. "I don't know. I'm not sure." She could feel eyes crawling on her skin, not Dwayne's only, and she whipped around, her eyes searching the crowd anxiously, for what, she couldn't say. For a brief moment, she thought she feared her imagination had run away with her again, and then she spotted him.

There was a man, not thirty feet from them, standing in the crowd, though apart from it, as though he were too foreign, too unnatural, to be part of the fold. He was older, than her, at least, maybe late twenties, early thirties. She was sure he was staring at her. She shuddered, and he smiled at her.

It would have been strange and disconcerting enough on its own, but it was made all the more so by the fact that standing just behind him, wearing a faded green hospital gown, and an unhappy scowl was the late Marie Van Buren. She was glaring at the back of the man's head so passionately that Missy half expected his hair to begin to smoke from the intensity of her mother's ire. The picture that the pair made was so bizarre that for too long, all Missy could do was stare. She opened her mouth, to scream or to ask Dwayne if he could see them too, she didn't know which, but they were already gone. The crowd poured in to fill the emptiness they left behind, and in a span no longer than a heartbeat, it was like they were never there. "Did you-" Dwayne's shrewd, dark eyes were burning a hole in the spot where the man had been. "That happened." Missy gasped. "That happened. You saw them." She stuck a finger in Dwayne's face, and Dwayne snatched her arm out of the air, squeezing her wrist like it owed him money.

"Let's go." He snapped.

"You saw them, right?" Missy dug her heels into the planks beneath her feet, but Dwayne kept her with him as easily as if he were carrying her outright. "You saw them too."

"Them?" Dwayne asked absently.

"Them." Missy insisted passionately. She'd had too many conversations that began this way, and ended with someone, usually her father, or another in an endless string of therapists, telling her that she was imagining things. "They were there. That guy and my-"

"Your what?" Missy collided with his back before she had the time to notice that Dwayne had stopped walking again. "What did you see?"

"My mom." Missy whispered, her heart settling in the soles of her feet. "You really didn't see her, did you?" She asked brokenly.

Dwayne shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. "I saw _him_."

"He knew me." Missy said, softly. "You saw it too, didn't you? He looked at me like he knew who I was." A horrible thought struck her, and she grabbed a handful of the sleeve of Dwayne's jacket, the leather supple and warm beneath her fingertips as she fixed her wide, hysterical eyes on Dwayne's impassive face. "Do you think he saw Renee on TV?" And who knew how long it took Marko and Paul to track down all of the posters with her face on them. The man could have seen one of them first. There was also the more frightening possibility that the man she'd seen in the crowd was the private investigator that Renee had contracted to find her. If that were the case, David wouldn't have to concern himself with hunting her down. She'd walk right up to him with a bow and a big fat smile on her face before she'd let that man take her back to Seattle. She had said she'd die before she went back to Renee. She didn't fully understand until now how much she'd meant it.

"Come on." Dwayne pried her hand off his sleeve, taking her by the wrist again, this time without it feeling like he was trying to break it.

"Where are we going? Dwayne?" Dwayne said nothing, having evidently reached his nightly quota for conversation two syllables ago. "Dwayne, stop." She tugged back on her arm, pushing at his shoulder with her free hand. "Let me go."

Dwayne released her arm abruptly, and that, with the momentum of her fighting him, landed her squarely on her tailbone on the damp, sticky ground. "Go to your friends, Missy."

Missy turned her head, astonished and relieved to see Edgar and Alan watching her with no small amount of alarm from inside the store. She stood, brushing off the seat of her pants and glared. "Tell me what's going on."

Dwayne regarded her coolly, saying nothing.

"Don't look at me like that." Missy balled her hands up into fists, putting her back to the store so Edgar and Alan couldn't see her face. "David tried to kill me, I'm having nightmares, and now I'm hallucinating!" She struggled to keep her voice down. "And you and Marko were so weird tonight. And Paul's sulking? Paul? There's something you're not telling me. This is my life, Dwayne, what's left of it, and I don't like secrets. I don't know what's up anymore, I'm scared, and tired, and so freaking done with all of you that it makes me sick." She jabbed a finger in Dwayne's bare chest. He stared down at it, like an ant had just crawled onto him "None of you will leave me alone, none of you. You all just forced yourself into my life. All I wanted was a chance to be happy away from Renee. Why can't any of you let me be?" She said, lowering her gaze, and her voice. "I'm seventeen. I don't want to die. I just want a life." She glanced up at him and saw that he was watching her, his expression clouded and dark. "Why me? Can't you tell me that? Why can't you just kill me or leave me be? Why do you have to keep torturing me like this? I'm holding on by a thread, Dwayne. I can't take this anymore, looking for David around every corner." She pressed a hand against the bandage on her neck. "There are worse things than dying, and one of them's waiting around for David to get bored and finish what he started. I'm done." She clenched her jaw and raised her eyes to meet Dwayne's. "I'm done, and I mean it this time. I don't want anything to do with any of you, and you can tell Marko that goes double for him. I'm through with all of it. No more pigeons, no more cryptic dead people, no more vampires." She finished resolutely. She felt Dwayne's stare burning on her back as she turned away. "Tell David he knows where to find me."

_And I swear to God, if I find Paul hiding under my bed again, I'm going to run him through with a chair leg. _She wasn't sure how well thoughts traveled, but she had the feeling there was a vampire somewhere who was sporting a pout right about now.

* * *

She narrowly avoided slamming headlong into Edgar, who was scowling and pointing aggressively over her shoulder. "What was that?"

"Please." Missy hugged her arms around her middle, biting her lip hard. "Just don't?"

"Edgar-" Alan started, warily.

Edgar turned around his brother, growling, "Something's up. I wanna know what."

"You want to know what's up?" Missy shrieked. "Join the club." With that, she stalked off, stamping her feet the whole way up the stairs and slamming her door shut behind her. She was two steps into her room before she turned around, opened the door, and slammed it two more times for good measure.

Nothing says "I don't want to be bothered" like superfluous door slamming.

Behind her door, the tears she'd held at bay before came back with reinforcements, and she slid down the wall, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyelids to hold back the flood. "I don't know what to do." She sobbed, grinding her face into her palms. "Tell me what to do." _Give up, _something inside of her said, but somewhere deep inside of her, she knew she already had. She was just a girl. How could she hope to hold against vampires? It had always been a matter of time, and time was on the side of the immortals.

For a long time, she cried. Held her head in her hands and cried harder than she could remember since her father passed. When her eyes were swollen and dry, she crawled into her bed and curled into a ball, shoes and all.

"You forgot to check under the bed." She whispered to herself, pulling the blanket up over her head. But she was tired. So very tired. If there was a monster under her bed, it could stay there. She didn't care anymore.

"Missy?" The voice filtered softly through her door. "Can I come in?"

"Go away, Alan." She sniffled, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweater.

She felt the mattress give, and the weight of his hand settled on her back through the quilt. She hadn't even heard the door open. "Hey. Talk to me."

She shook her head. "No."

Alan's free hand tugged at the blanket. "Are you okay?" He asked.

She laughed quietly. "Not even remotely."

"What happened?"

"I'm just done."

"Done what?"

A sigh. "Everything."

Alan ripped the blanket away, and his face fell when he saw hers. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Missy rolled over to face him, rubbing at the tender skin around her eyes. "Exactly what it sounds like. I'm just fed up. With everything." She pulled her knees up to her chest, pressed her face into the quilt. "I wish I'd never come here."

Alan rubbed her back. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Missy rolled her head a little so she could see him on her right side. "It's the truth. I was better off in Seattle."

"You were miserable in Seattle." Alan argued.

"Yeah, and I'm miserable here." Missy said. "Miserable and alone. So nothing's changed."

"That's not true." Alan touched her hair. "You have me and Edgar."

"Edgar hates me." Hate was a strong word. And accurate. "He's always growling at me and making faces."

"No he's not." Alan insisted. "He's just worried about you. We both are." He petted her hair. "We just want to help."

"You can't. How could you possibly?" Missy said, brushing his hand off. "What do you know? You're fifteen."

"You're seventeen. So, what? You know everything now?" Alan grumbled back.

Missy lifted her head, glaring hotly at the elder Frog. "More than you. You and Edgar…" She cut herself off with a laugh that bordered on hysterical. "You're delusional. You wouldn't know a vampire if it bit you on the nose, much less what to do with one. You don't know anything. Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, following me around like a little puppy. You don't even know enough to know when you're not wanted." Alan's face hardened, and his jaw clenched. "Go read your comics, fearless vampire hunter." Missy hissed. "And leave me alone."

"What's your problem?" Alan barked. "Why are you acting like this?"

"You're my problem." Missy ran her hands through her hair, tugging sharply. "Why can't you just do what I ask?"

"You want me to leave you alone?" Alan snarled.

"Yes." Missy snapped. "I do."

They held each other's narrowed eyes, until Alan turned away. "Fine." Was all he said. He went without another word, pulling the door closed behind him violently enough that the picture frame on Missy's bedside table fell over, the glass splintering down the middle with a devastating crack.

"Oh." She whimpered, sliding off the bed to kneel on the floor. She lifted her parents' photograph and ran her finger over the fissure between her mother and father's smiling faces. "What am I going to do?"

* * *

_"Missy."_

To her credit, she didn't scream this time. She wondered what that meant for what remained of her sanity, when seeing her dead mother didn't even faze her. "Hey, Mom." She sighed. "How're things?"

Marie, rather, her ghost, or the hallucination thereof, scowled. "Don't 'Hey, Mom' me." She said.

"Sorry." Missy apologized, scooting sideways on the bench to make room.

"What did I tell you?" Marie asked.

"About?" Missy tilted her head back, staring up at the glossy ceiling. The carousel was dark and empty. She could hear music far off, muffled and distorted, like she was underwater. _Or dreaming. _The polished bench felt like ice; her mother's glare however, was scorching. She shut her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?"

Missy felt the back of her mother's icy hand touch her cheek. "To help you, baby."

"You can't help me." Missy whispered. "This is a dream. You aren't real."

Marie laughed softly, and pinched her sharply. "I'm as real as you need me to be."

Missy's eyes shot open. "Ow." She rubbed her cheek. "I thought you couldn't get hurt in a dream?"

"Pain is in the mind." Marie replied. She took a seat, placing her hand on Missy's knee. "Tell me about the vampires."

Missy bit her lip, staring down at her mother's pale, grey hand, and pointedly not at her broken neck. "I don't know what to do." She whispered. "I'm scared, and I'm tired of being scared."

"What are you afraid of?" Marie asked.

"Well, David, for starters."

"You don't have to be afraid of dying, sweetheart." Marie's free hand brushed her cheek, and Missy slapped it away.

"Easy for you to say. You're already dead."

"True." Marie said. "But that's not the only thing bothering you, is it?"

Missy averted her eyes. She thought of the man in the crowd. She shook her head, moisture flying from her burning eyes. "I was cruel to Alan. He was just trying to help, and I said awful things to him. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me." She bit her lip, licking the moisture off. "I don't know if I want him to. I don't deserve it."

"He will."

"How do you know?" Missy asked. "I was a complete monster to him. And I snapped at Edgar." She didn't feel quite as bad about that part. "All I do is push them away from me."

Gently, Marie said, "You're protecting them."

"Yeah," Missy said, frowning. "but who's going to protect them from _me_?"

Marie laughed. "I think you're underestimating them, sweetie."

"What if I'm not?" Missy whispered. "David will kill them, Mom. I know he will, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. They're just kids."

Marie leaned in and brushed her daughter's hair away from her face. "Last I checked, you were still just a kid too, sweetie."

"That's not the point." Missy argued. "It's my responsibility to keep them safe. It's all my fault David even knows they exist in the first place."

Marie shot her a withering look. "I think the vampire would have picked up on the self-proclaimed teenage vampire hunters sooner or later."

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me?" Missy griped. "So help me. Offer me some grand wisdom from the other side. Please. Just-just tell me what to do."

"I tried to warn you." Marie touched her cheek gently with an icy hand. "I can't protect you. He's so close."

"Who?" Marie looked away, and Missy grabbed her arm. "Mom. Who?"

"It'll work out." Marie turned suddenly and cupped Missy's face in both hands. "In the end. Everything will be fine. I promise."

"That's a pie crust promise." Missy whimpered miserably, large, fat tears slipping down her cheeks and over her mother's cool hands.

"Just be careful, honey." Her mother's face flickered briefly into static, like a dying television set, and Missy's heart skipped.

"Help me. Tell me something. Anything! Please."

Marie's image flickered once, and went out like a candle, her soft voice drifting away on the wind like smoke. "It's almost over."

Missy came awake with a violent start, her breath catching in her throat. A heavy lump settled in her chest when she touched her face and her fingertips came away wet. She was losing her mind. The moisture on her hand was physical, irrefutable proof of that. She ran her fingers through her hair and tugged a little. She had to pull it together, or try. David wouldn't sit idly on the sidelines and wait for her to have her meltdown. She couldn't afford to come apart at the seams now.

She slid her body to the foot of her bed, bending to retrieve her comforter from the floorboards where she'd thrown it in her unrest. She regarded her one bare foot and wondered where her other flat had gotten to. She felt a little like Cinderella, hobbling around on one foot trying to find her missing slipper. Only Cinderella's feet probably weren't as sweaty. She wiggled her toes, mildly disgusted to feel the moisture beneath her soles. "Ugh." She felt rumpled, and gross. "That's what you get for sleeping in your clothes." She chastised herself, picking up her other shoe, which had somehow made it all the way over to her bookshelf, and slipped it on one-handed.

She cracked her door open and peeked out into the hall. The lights were still on. "How long did I sleep?" She didn't know for sure that Edgar and Alan were still up, but she didn't want to chance waking them either way. She crept out into the hall, reaching back for the doorknob. She pulled the door shut, wincing as it settled loudly in its frame. "So much for stealth mode." She slipped into the bathroom, closing that door a little less obnoxiously and tiptoeing (a little unnecessarily) over to the mirror. She didn't know whether to be relieved that she didn't look as gross as she felt. Her hair was ruffled, and her shirt was wrinkled, but she didn't look too worse for wear. She ran her fingers through her hair and splashed a little cool water on her face to wake herself up. "No more naps for you." She told her groggy, pale reflection. She turned her wrist and checked her watch. She'd only been asleep for about an hour. It felt like a whole day, but then, emotional weariness did take a lot out of her. Of course, now that she was awake, she had to decide what she was going to do about Alan. Her stomach, and the knot that had been forming ever since she was cross with him, said apologize, but then, she couldn't help thinking it was probably safer for him if he was angry with her. The further he stayed from her, the better. So she could scratch apologizing to Alan off her to-do list, but what then? It wasn't like she could go downstairs and face the both of them. She wasn't up to dealing with the looks, least of all from Alan. She supposed it was too much to hope that they'd let her pass without saying anything, and she wasn't one-hundred percent on going out anyway. She and Dwayne hadn't parted on the best terms, exactly, and with David still out trolling the boardwalk, she wasn't sure that she wasn't better off staying in.

Enough. It was time for her to put on her big girl panties. She couldn't avoid Alan forever just because they had a spat. She lived with him, for crying out loud. She could go downstairs and face him like a man. Woman. If she was lucky, he wouldn't even bring it up at all. The Frog brothers weren't a touchy-feely pair. Maybe she'd skate by just this once.

Right. When was she ever that lucky?

Alan's eyes were on her before she hit the last step, and the way he looked at her, she would have rather he just hit her, it hurt that much. Edgar didn't look at her at all. She wasn't sure that was any better. She looked away first, staring at her feet like a child until the customer he was helping forced Alan's attention away from her.

She took the opening.

* * *

The crowd swallowed her up, and she let her feet take her wherever they wanted, letting her mind go completely. Like a moth to the flame, her wandering feet drew her closer and closer to the carousel. The music was crisp, and deafening as she stepped onto the platform. She climbed up onto a gold and white painted horse with a wild, gilded mane, holding onto the waist belt with one hand like it was the reins, wrapping her other hand around the pole jutting through the its back. She shut her eyes, letting the music and the gentle rocking of the horse clear her head. Sometimes it was easier not to think, but she couldn't help it. She had too many questions. The one she couldn't seem to shake at the moment was where Eden was. Marko wouldn't have killed her. At least she didn't think he would, but he had been acting weird all night. Maybe he'd been feeling a little peckish and thought Eden would make a good snack. Or maybe she just looked at him funny. Then again, he was a vampire. He didn't need a reason to kill someone.

"You don't believe that."

Missy didn't bother opening her eyes. "Maybe I do."

Marko's hand wrapped around the pole, covering hers. "Maybe you should. But you don't." He was close enough that she could feel the decorations hanging off of his jacket through her sweater. She cracked her eyes open and inclined her head so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't looking at her, he was watching the crowd as the carousel spun.

"Where's Eden?"

Marko didn't react in the slightest. Missy imagined he had a lot of practice at coaching his expression. He didn't bat an eye as he shrugged, "I dropped her back at her motel. Said she was going to crash."

Missy bit her lip. "I don't believe you."

Marko turned to look at her, his expression cool and unreadable. He must have been studying Dwayne. "How much do you know about her?"

Missy narrowed her eyes, leaning back to put some space between her face and Marko's. "Why?"

Marko cracked an impish smile, but his heart didn't seem like it was in it. "Call it curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Missy whispered, averting her eyes to watch her reflection in the glossy panels on the inside of the carousel. She wasn't disturbed by the absence of Marko's, but then, she was tired of being surprised by vampires.

"But satisfaction brought it back." He shifted closer, until she could feel his cool breath waft over the bandage on her neck.

"She's from Texas." Missy said after a quiet moment of thought. "She had a boyfriend named Steve who used to hit her. And she wants to be an actress."

"An actress, huh?" Marko tilted his head. "She say what she's doing in Santa Carla?"

"No." Missy let go off the pole and wrapped both of her arms around her middle. "What's with the third degree? Why are you so interested in Eden?"

Marko downright smirked at her. "Jealous?"

"Hardly." Missy shot back, flustered. "But you're fishing. Why?"

Marko shrugged again. "Like I said. Curiosity."

"I don't believe that." Missy said. "Why are you even here? Did you come here just to grill me about Eden?"

"No."

"That's it?" Missy frowned. "No? No explanation?"

"Not really." Marko half-smiled. "I wanted to see you."

That would have been sweet had it not come out of the mouth of a vampire. "I'm having an aggressively bad day here, Marko. I'm not really in the mood for cute."

Marko leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against the side of her head. "You're okay."

Missy gave in a slumped back against his chest, whimpering. "No, I'm not."

Marko's chin dug into her scalp as he laughed at her. "You will be."

She snorted bitterly. "Pie crust promise." She let her chin drop down onto her collarbone, sighing. "I'm falling apart." _And I think I might be losing my mind._"I can't sleep." Not without her dead mother dropping in for a friendly chat night after night, which was, to say the least, not normal. "I'm seeing things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Does it matter?" Missy asked. "Crazy is crazy."

She could hear the shrug in Marko's voice. "There's lots of different kinds of crazy."

Missy shook her head, biting her lip hard enough to hurt. "Crazy is crazy. End of story."

The carousel spun them to a gradual stop, and Marko held out his hands to help her down from her horse. Against her better judgment, Missy let him. "I don't trust her."

Talk about whiplash. "Who?" Missy followed him down off the platform and into the crowd, puzzled.

"Your friend." Marko said without looking at her. "Eden."

Missy made a face. "That's funny."

"How so?" Marko cocked his head like a curious golden retriever.

"She said the same thing about you."

Marko didn't look as if he found the coincidence as amusing as she did. "Did she now?" He didn't seem to like the thought of Eden imparting any advice that involved him. Tetchy vampires. "Promise me something?"

"Tell me what first." Missy furrowed her brow. She didn't like this side of Marko. Not one bit. She liked it even less than the head kicking side.

"Don't let her get you alone."

Missy was thoroughly stunned. "Why not?"

"Just stay on the boardwalk." Marko grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Please?"

"Tell me why." _And I will. _

Marko smiled gently. "Just a feeling."

"Just a feeling?" Missy narrowed her eyes incredulously.

Marko released her and took a step back, grinning. "What? Don't humans ever get weird vibes?"

"Har har." Missy shoved him. "Eavesdropper."

Marko snagged her around the waist, tugging her back. "Force of habit."

Missy's good humor fled her like a bat out of hell, leaving her feeling empty and miserable. She stepped out of his arms, tucking her hair behind her ears and frowning. "I meant what I said."

Marko looked just as unhappy. "I know you did."

"I'm tired of feeling this way." She whispered brokenly. "I want to be safe."

"You're safer with us than you think."

"I wish I could believe that." Her hand came up unconsciously to touch the Band-Aid on her neck. "I don't want to be afraid of you."

Marko looked strangely uncomfortable, like there was something that he wanted to tell her, but something was holding him back. "I'm sorry." He said at last, and Missy sighed. Vampires and their secrets. "I am."

"I know." Missy leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I know." He reached for her hand, but she slipped away.

"Missy, wait." He caught her by the shoulder, turning her to face him again. "Just wait. Please."

"What is it?" Missy asked.

"Just promise me you won't go anywhere with her alone." Marko looked more serious than she'd ever seen him. "Please."

Missy opened her mouth to argue, to badger him until he broke and confessed whatever it was that he was hiding, but she didn't get the chance. Marko swept in and covered her mouth with his, gripping her face in his gloved hands. _Please. _

He let her go, and Missy sighed. "Okay." She didn't know why she said it, but she couldn't argue with the look on his face. She knew he was keeping something from her, but she figured spending time with Eden should have been the least of her concerns, anyway.

"Thank you." Marko took a step back, frowning. "I have to go."

"Okay." Missy bit her lip, feeling awkward, and not liking it one bit.

"Goodnight, Missy."

"Goodbye, Marko."

* * *

Missy didn't look up until she was certain that Marko had gone, and for a long while after, she just stared at the space that he had occupied, torn between being angry with him, and just being angry. Her life really wasn't like other peoples'. "I should've stayed in bed." She sighed, scrubbing the back of her hand over her eyes viciously.

"I thought he'd never leave."

Her stomach rolled violently, and she clutched at her mouth with both hands to keep from heaving. Her entire body went cold, like all the blood had rushed to her feet, or left her body completely. She couldn't look. She wanted to run, but she couldn't physically bring herself to move. She thought about calling for Marko, but she knew that he wouldn't come even if she had half a shot at getting the words out in the first place. Trembling, she commanded her feet to move. She turned and beheld the devil in his black coat.

David, smiling around a freshly lit cigarette, his skin smooth, and completely healed. "Hello, Missy. Did you miss me?"

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**I'm a donkey's butt, I know. Feel free to leave me a review telling me how much you hate me for taking so long. I completely deserve it. But while you're there, go ahead and let me know what you thought of this chapter. **


End file.
